Quips and Salsa
by BuJyo
Summary: Mary and Marshall's developing relationship...on the job and off. Lots of action, some verbal sparring, scenes of torture and gore, hormonal rebellion with a lot of ZEST!. The final chapter is posted! Rated M.
1. Chapter 1

**Scene:**** U.S. Marshals Mary Shannon and Marshall Mann are members of a multidisciplinary task force participating in a large drug/illegal arms bust outside of the city. **

***** I had read about the U.S. Marshals being extremely tough and dangerous in real life and being borrowed by other law enforcement agencies for dangerous ops, so I wanted to do something showing that with M/M. My ramblings on how M/M would roll *****

**Las Vegas, NV – 6-8 months after Mary was shot – sitting in the SUV…waiting.**

**Friday 11pm**

"…and the Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland was built with the task of isolating the God Particle, or Higgs…" Marshall was saying.

"I'm going to write a book." Mary suddenly interjected into Marshall's never ending monotone on bosons…or bosoms or something.

"..what?..wait, a book?" Marshall ground some mental gears, unprepared for the segue.

"Yeah. I can't believe I haven't thought about it before…it'll be great!" Mary had that look on her face that meant she was thinking hard. The one that scared Marshall.

"Oooo kaaay. What kind of book?" He said, getting sucked into this exchange despite his better judgment.

"Non-fiction. One of those day-in-the-life-of jobbies that the reality TV losers like. I'll title it: _Useless,__Random Shit that Falls Out of Marshall's Piehole_" she said, smiling broadly. "It'll be huge sensation…book signings…royalties!"

Marshall sneered at her. "Nice" he huffed. She chuckled.

She shifted in her seat and turned swiftly to him, mischief etched in her expression. "_Uh oh_" he thought, leaning away from her slightly.

"Having a conversation with you is like reading an encyclopedia. I bet you can't go the next two hours without spouting some useless trivia or mindless drivel" she challenged, her chin jutted out towards him.

"That's ridiculous" he returned, "you're just jealous that you stopped reading in the third grade and now learn everything from the back of cereal boxes." Marshall was pouting now.

"Betcha can't do it" she sing-songed, sitting back in her set and crossing her arms over her chest, looking out the side window. She started humming the theme song from Jeopardy while checking for any action at Paulie's and listening to the quiet chatter on the two-ways.

"All right" Marshall drawled after a few minutes. His expression was now sly and he was grinning evilly. "I'll take that bet if I get to name my terms."

"Hmmm? Yeah, o.k…when do we start the timer?" Mary turned back to look at Marshall, having been distracted by her own thoughts.

"Wait for it. I haven't defined the terms of the bet yet." Marshall held up a hand.

"You're kidding, right? It seems pretty simple…you keep your trap from flapping randomly for the next two hours and then you get to gloat that you won the bet for a week. Whoo!" She spun her finger in the air. Mary hadn't noticed the gleam in Marshall's eyes. "All I know is_ I_ get two hours of piece and quiet."

"If I win you have to take a Salsa dance lesson with me" Marshall declared, smiling triumphantly.

Mary looked at him like he had a third eyeball. "Oh HELL no, Twinkle Toes. God, you'd think of any excuse to feel me up, wouldn't you?"

Marshall let that one pass by and raised one eyebrow at her. "Are you reneging on your bet? Because if you are I win by default" he challenged. "And not only would you have to dance, I swear I'll manage to talk continuously about absolutely nothing for the next two hours just because I can!" He poked her in the shoulder with one finger for good measure.

The next forty seconds were taken up by a glaring contest in the SUV.

"Fine!" she spat at him. "You're such a friggin' girl! But if I win, we drive my car for the next week and you're paying for the gas…and lunch". She flipped her hair back over her shoulder and glared out the window.

Marshall shuddered. He thought that riding in Mary's car was like hanging on to the underside of a bus. Just as dangerous and noxious. Still…

"Deal" He said with a satisfied grin on his face, thinking, "_This'll be a piece of cake_". He programmed the timer on his wristwatch and said, "…and we start, now."

The next half hour was taken up by a lot of silence. There were occasional updates by the command center on the radios and the random pre-op quips that helped everyone relieve the nervous tension. Mary would chit chat infrequently, but every time she asked Marshall a question she'd get a one or two word answer. It was actually kind of irritating so she said, "What? Now I get the silent treatment?"

He held up one finger in her direction while he finished his sweep with the field glasses. He looked at her with eyes wide in innocence. "I wouldn't want to accidentally voice any trivia or drivel."

He then droned in a flat voice. "Oh, the dress code at the Salsa studio requires you to wear a skirt…and heels." He could see a slightly panicked look come over her face and quickly ducked his head so she didn't see him laughing silently. "No hitting!" he yelped right before she punched him in the shoulder…hard. "Ow!"

"That wasn't part of the deal!" She whined. "_Oh my god, I've got to do something to get out of this. He's really going to make me go through with it!" _The thought of Marshall's hands around her waist were making her squirm internally…and inappropriately.

"Au contraire" he said snootily, "it is part of the whole lesson package. It's not my fault you didn't ask to hear about the fine print." He knew he was pushing his luck, but just couldn't stop himself now.

Mary sulked for a few minutes and shot him dirty looks from the other side of the truck. "_Think, Mary, think..._" She knew Marshall was a stickler for detail and she also knew he'd hold her to this bet. She was going to have to try for a straight chicken move. She sighed.

"Then I'm not going to do it." She declared. "The bet's off, you can lecture at will" She waved her hands in the air to punctuate the permission.

Marshall would not be dissuaded. This opportunity was way too good to pass up and he was a glutton for punishment. He gave her a stony stare, "Oh no…you're not going to weasel out on this. You don't weasel out on bets or dares. I know you better than that."

Then he sat back, as though he was deep in thought and stroked his chin. "Anyway, if you don't go, there's still that picture…." He trailed off, watching her in his peripheral vision. "Never know if it could make its way into the main break room…or maybe Bobby D. would like one for the squad room…hmmm"

Now, Mary knew there were pictures and then there were _**pictures.**_ She had been in enough compromising situations throughout their partnership to know there was a chance Marshall had one of the latter. She was flipping through her mental rolodex of embarrassment at light speed. Marshall could almost hear the motors racing. He tried to hide a smile. Mary always seemed to forget what a bastard he could be when he wanted to.

She took the bait. "What picture?"

"Remember Trina's bacherlorette party?" he began, looking at her with raised eyebrows.

He continued when her eyes widened slightly and her mouth made a little "o". "There you were, in that dress…and there was that cop…what was his name? Peter…Rod? I seem to remember a lot of cameras going off when you fell into his lap. Oh…and that little, gold g-string he had on was fabulous!" He could see her breathing more heavily and shooting looks that would kill an ordinary mortal. "_Ah, my total annihilation approaches, but I'll die happy!_" he thought with a chuckle.

"You do not have a picture of that" she hissed, encroaching onto his side of the SUV. "I would know if you had a picture of that!" "_Holy Crap_!" she thought as she was recalling the situation. The dress itself was scandalous, her breasts only stayed inside the material because Brandi was a wizard with double sided duct tape. She did remember being pushed into that cop's lap, ass over elbows, by one of Trina's drunk friends. She's pretty sure everyone got an eyeful of more than just her thigh holster. She was trying to stare at Marshall hard enough to get him to crack if he was lying. Since he wouldn't look at her, the insufferable man was pointedly ignoring her, she couldn't get a good read on him.

"Shit." She caved and sat back. She would rather gussy up and dance than think of the alternative. She could see him smiling now, all proud of himself. "I don't know why everyone thinks _you're_ the nice one" she sneered.

"'Cause I'm prettier!" he grinned. She threw a water bottle at him.

"You're a jackass" she mumbled.

"Yes, but I'm soon to be a victorious jackass" he picked up the field glasses again. "Only one hour left".

The two-way crackled to life with Command's voice: "We've got unexpected traffic in the drop zone. Two cars and a truck. Either the timetable got moved up or we've got a situation. Time to escalate. Everyone in position in ten."

**** I love it when Marshall wins! Please review if you can. ****


	2. Chapter 2

**Saturday 1215 am**

_The two-way crackled to life with Command's voice: "We've got unexpected traffic in the drop zone. Two cars and a truck. Either the timetable got moved up or we've got a situation. Time to escalate. Everyone in position in ten."_

Mary experienced a shot of adrenaline with the words and suddenly she couldn't help the scenes playing through her head.

"….hey chica…I'm thirsty…" …the smell of alcohol and marijuana…

…the whirling blue and red lights from the patrol car…

"…I don't want to fight you…" …the glint of metal under the street lamp…

…searing pain…then blackness…

"… o.k. Mare? Hey…Mary?" Marshall's hand on her shoulder jolted her out of her reverie and she looked at him, startled. He was staring at her with a look of concern and repeated, "Hey, are you o.k.? You totally checked out there."

She shook her head to clear the images. "Yeah…just some memories. Wow, I didn't really expect that." She said softly. She took a deep breath and sat up straight, looked at Marshall and declared "I'm good. Let's go."

Marshall didn't let go of her shoulder as she attempted to exit the SUV. She turned back in her seat and looked at him. "What?" she snapped.

"We all have roles to play in this, Mare. You have to be absolutely sure you're ready to play the game." He was very serious. He had seen that slightly haunted look on her face and knew exactly what she was thinking. He had experienced the same flashbacks and fear after his shooting. If she faltered during the bust because of a flashback or because she hesitated, he didn't want to think about what would happen. He couldn't go through that again.

Mary read between the lines quickly. "Marshall" she matched his seriousness, "if I thought, for even a moment, I would endanger the lives of the people involved in this operation by entering the game, I would sit it out. And Marshall?" she narrowed her eyes a bit "Don't you _ever_ think I would willingly put your life in danger. _That_ would never happen." She reached up to squeeze his hand then slid out of the truck.

"I'm not worried about _my_ life." He whispered too low for her to hear. "_Keep her safe_" her mentally tossed up to whatever deity might be listening. He grabbed his hat off the console and went out the drivers side.

**Saturday 12:40 am – 1:35 am**

The ten man team spread out around the block containing Paulie's house. They were all aware of the unexpected, extra suspects that had recently arrived. LVPD were able to silently neutralize four of the men who remained in the cars out front and remove them from the scenario. That left eight to twelve targets inside the house.

Mary vacillated between feeling giddy and nauseous while moving with Marshall around the back of the house. The funny thing was, she wasn't afraid like she thought she might've been. It'd had been too long since she had her adrenaline jacked this high and she had missed it. She glanced at Marshall to record his profile in her mind. She mused about the weird connection between them. If he were to get into trouble, she knew she would know about it right away…just feel it somehow. It gave her a lot of comfort in situations like this. She was smiling without knowing it.

Marshall was also settling into the super alert state he always achieved as they moved into position. It was so good to have Mary at his side again, it had been too long. The last two operations he assisted on were without her and twice he had panicked because he thought he had lost sight of her before realizing she wasn't there. It was odd, he thought, that even if he couldn't see her, he always seemed to know where she was at the scene. He didn't question the feeling, just accepted it as being part of a close partnership…maybe a little more. He looked over at her and saw that she was smiling as they moved into position, her eyes alight. "_That's my girl_" he chuckled silently.

Marshall, Mary and two DEA agents stood with their backs against the back wall of the house as the rest of the team went in through the front of the house with weapons drawn and announcing themselves loudly. As expected, suspects bolted out the back door.

"Rabbits!" yelled Marshall as he and one of the DEA men took off across the back yard in pursuit. Mary and the other DEA agent launched themselves into the back of the house to begin to pin down targets to keep anyone from ferreting out weapons or hiding evidence. There were three shots fired outside in the back yard and Mary's gut tightened reflexively before she recognized they were from Marshall's gun. "_I hope he didn't kill 'em_", she thought, "_he'll stew about that for weeks_". She was able to wrestle two suspects into submission, keeping one from dragging a shotgun out from under the sink. There were a lot of hidey holes throughout the house, including a secreted meth lab in the far corner of the basement. The situation could've been a lot worse had the lab been up and running. Unfortunately, the main bulk of the drugs and guns that were the target of the operation were missing. No one inside the house was talking. The team was not amused. They began herding prisoners outside the house and into the vans for transport.

Mary was aggravated and sweating. This idiot she was trying to cuff was stoned out of his mind and as wiggly as they come. Every time she'd get the cuffs nearly fastened, he'd be crawling away again. She was also keeping an eye on the second man face down and restrained on the floor in the corner. At least he had the common sense to lie still. "I swear to god, I'm going to rip your friggin' balls off and feed them to you if you don't lay still!" she growled.

Marshall was grinning as he came around the corner, marching his captive towards the front door. He could hear her cursing and threatening violence as he was coming down the hall. "Here" he offered, shoving his more cooperative thug into the wall "you want this one instead? I'll take care of that one for you."

"Oh, please" panted Mary as Marshall came over to take her place, "otherwise I'm pretty sure I'll just shoot him to make it easier." Marshall knew she must be getting pretty tired if she gave up her punching bag that easily. He gave her credit for recognizing it. Even though she thought she was ready for this, he knew she was going to be surprised by how quickly she wore out after suffering as severe of injury as she had. "I'll be back to get the other dirtbag in a few." She grabbed the man Marshall left facing the wall and headed out to the front. "_Dammit_" she thought as she tried to catch her breath "_I feel like a rookie on my first bust. It's a good thing this went down as quick as it did. I wouldn't have been much use for much longer_". As soon as she handed the perp over to LVPD outside, she felt the overwhelming urge to get back into the house. She trotted up the steps with a sense of urgency, not sure what the source was.

***** please keep reviewing! I'm really having fun writing this one. The deviance is about to begin! *****


	3. Chapter 3

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Marshall struggled with Mary's prisoner also. The man was extraordinarily nimble considering his mental state and girth and was making Marshall work for every inch. He had the man face down on the floor with one knee in his back, trying to get the last free arm into the bracelets. He was unaware of the shadow that appeared in the doorway of the small room behind him. The team had missed one.

"Marshall" called Mary as she approached the room, "they've got room for these two, but we still don't know where Paulie and the stash went…" her words cut off abruptly as she turned into the room. Marshall's back was turned slightly towards her, and just to her left, emerging from the next room, a figure rushed at Marshall swinging a baseball bat towards his head. "NO!!" she yelled and barreled into the attacker, shoulder crashing into his midsection. Her momentum sent them both crashing back into the room the man had just exited from. The baseball bat fell to the floor right behind Marshall. Marshall had thrown an arm up in defense with Mary's shout and the blur of activity appearing out of the corner of his eye. His prisoner, again taking advantage of the lapse, proceeded to begin struggling and flailing in attempt to escape.

Hearing the struggle in the next room, Marshall's patience evaporated and he was no longer in the mood to be gentle. He quickly wrenched the man's shoulder up until it snapped, and as the man crumpled with pain, finally cuffed him securely. The activity in the adjoining room had ceased except for a low groaning. As he finished struggling with the thug, Marshall called out, carefully intoning his words to seem casual but for his partner's ears, "Honey?? You all right in there?" He sing-songed teasingly. His chest was tight with worry.

She called back immediately, "Just peachy, Sweetie Pie!" His heart started beating again. "I got you a present!" she continued. Marshall tossed the two men…boys, actually…onto the couch and zip tied their legs together and to the legs of the couch. "Sit. Quiet" he barked at them. He spoke to Mary again while glaring at the captives, "Did you wrap it up for me like I like it?"

"I even put a bow on it" she replied. "You're not going to shake it and break it like you did the last one, are you?" You could hear the pout in her voice.

"Oh, no" began Marshall as he stared into the now frightened eyes of the boys. He reached into his pocket and snapped open a switchblade. "I'm going to take my time and open it real slow." He smiled.

Marshall turned and walked to the doorway of the room in which Mary waited and looked in. She was sitting backwards on a chair which had been used to pin an approximately fifteen year old boy to the floor. His arms were trapped by the chair legs, and the horizontal bar between the back two legs was resting on his throat. Mary leaned back slightly and the weight of the bar was released and the boy groaned as he sucked in a full breath. The kid's eyes were wide with fright.

Mary, however, was anything but frightened. She sat there like a queen with her hands resting on the chair back…one set of knuckles scraped and raw, her lip cut and the beginnings of a shiner under her right eye. Her hair was a crazy mess and she had a smile on her face from ear to ear. She looked at Marshall and proclaimed "God…I _love_ my job!"

Marshall thought it was the most beautiful thing he had seen in a while. "_I have never loved this woman more than I do right now!_" he shouted in his head. This was Mary in all her glory…gold hair and lightning. His heart ached and he said, "This is the best present you could ever have gotten me!" He was playing along with the game for the benefit of their audience, but the look in his eyes as he said it to his partner conveyed a far deeper meaning.

Mary sucked in a quick breath and dropped her gaze, strangely unsettled. In doing so, she noticed the blood on Marshall's pants and the tear in the material over his thigh. She was immediately concerned. "Are you going to bleed all over the carpet?" she asked in order to assess the severity of the injury. "Nah" he dismissed it, "just a graze." She nodded, relieved.

Marshall pulled a roll of duct tape from another pocket and quickly pulled off a piece. He squatted down next to their captive's head making sure the boy saw the switchblade, and firmly placed the tape over the kid's eyes. He whispered into the boy's ear as he did so. "Listen to me carefully and you won't die. You will follow my instructions exactly. Do not speak unless I tell you to. Do not move unless I tell you to. Do you understand these instructions?" The pinned boy nodded frantically. Marshall looked at his partner, who winked at him as she said in a sweet voice, "This one's nice and young, sweetie. He'll last a long while." She pitched her voice to carry into the other room.

It was a game they had played before during these types of situations. An extremely effective method of extracting information from amateurs without laying a finger on anyone. No one would ever be able to say "police brutality". The two boys trapped on the couch were already afraid, could not see into the next room, and had just recently had a taste of Marshall's skills.

Marshall firmly grabbed the boy's hair and whispered, "Scream!" The kid let loose a convincing scream and Mary soon cut it off with a slight forward tilt of the chair. Marshall loudly and excitedly said, "You like that?! Tell me where Paulie stashed the smack and I'll try to let you keep some fingers this time." Mary had let the boy breathe again as he was talking.

"He doesn't know!" screamed one of the men from the other room. "He's just an errand boy!" Mary grinned at Marshall. "Marshall," she pouted, "you're making him bleed too much too soon! You must be tense, honey."

"It's been a long night, baby." He replied, rolling his eyes at Mary. She snickered. Her partner hardened his voice again. "Now come on, you piece of shit, it's a simple question: where's the stash?!" Mary had leaned back further and Marshall whispered, "Scream!" at the boy again. The kid's screams carried the right amount of terror and tears. Mary let him go a little longer this time before leaning forward to cut him off.

"Leave him alone! Leave him alone!" pleaded the man on the couch again. "He's just a kid, you assholes!!" They could hear him thrashing about.

Mary leaned back further again and the trapped boy screamed before Marshall even had time to prompt him. "Smart kid" murmured Mary as she gently leaned forward to signal him to be quiet.

"All you have to tell me is where Paulie dumped the goods, kid. I've got all night" Marshall chuckled loudly for the audience.

"Dang it, baby!" whined Mary, still in character, "now you got blood in my hair! Don't kill him too soon!"

The man on the couch snapped. "They're at the old mattress warehouse on 6th street!!" he frantically shouted. "It's all there! All of it! I swear!...just let him go! He's my baby brother!" He was begging now.

Marshall danced a jig and shot his fists into the air in victory and Mary shook her head as she got off the chair. "Well done, kid" she said quietly to the trembling boy. "Now get up." She cuffed him and they took him into the other room.

The men struggling on the couch gaped in shock when the three appeared in the doorway. "But…" sputtered the younger man, "…you were…he was screaming…" he trailed off.

"Jesus, you moron" Mary sneered at him as Marshall gathered the two perps, "we're the _good_ guys, remember? _You're_ the idiots." They exited the house with prisoners in tow and joined the party.

***** I read about subtle interrogation techniques by law enforcement agencies once. This sort of thing seems like it would be very effective and just seemed like a game they would excel at! Please review, thanks *****


	4. Chapter 4

**Saturday 2:45 am**

The two inspectors debriefed at the command wagon and headed back to their SUV. Both looking forward to showers and a few hours of sleep before driving back to Albuquerque tomorrow. The souveniers included an ice pack for Mary's face and a bandage for Marshall's thigh. About ten feet from their truck, Marshall stopped. Mary looked up at him and saw pain flash across his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked quickly, worried he had an injury she didn't know about.

He turned to her quickly and enveloped her in a strong embrace, his head buried in her hair. She stiffened on relex, then relaxed as she understood exactly why he was holding her so fiercely. She had felt the same way before about him. Once you almost lose something that makes your life worth living, you treasure it all the more because you've experienced that frightening grip of emptiness too closely. After that, when a situation arises that threatens that treasure, the only way to truly know you've not lost it again is to hold it close to your heart and feel it in your arms. She wrapped her arms around him and breathed in his scent, feeling the pounding of his heart against her ear. "I'm O.k." she whispered. "Me too" he whispered back.

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A few minutes later, she was buckling her seat belt when Marshall excitedly said, "Oh! Look what time it is!" holding his arm in front of her face and pointing at his watch.

"Yeah," said Mary, unimpressed "it's three in the morning. Is something special going to happen, Cinderella?"

"I won the bet!" He exclaimed, happily shaking his clasped hands high in victory.

"What?!" she yelped, trying to bat at his hands. "You can't be serious?! We were _shooting_ people, for Chrissake!"

"Let's see" he mused, "we rendezvoused at our positions at 12:30, had a plan of attack by 12:40 and then we were in the thick of things until 1:35 when the place was finally cleaned out. Since the timer started at 11:15" he was trying to show her the time set on his watch but she kept slapping his hand away, "I can safely say there was a complete absence of trivia and/or drivel for 2 hours." He smiled at her triumphantly and she pondered walking home.

He continued to talk excitedly. "The next class is Tuesday night at 8 o'clock. I can pick you up around 7:30 so you'll have time to meet the instructor." He looked at her stricken face, almost feeling a smidge of remorse, but stuffing it down successfully. "Do you even _own_ a skirt?" He asked, chuckling.

She glared at him, grabbed her coat and covered her head with it while turning in the seat to get comfortable enough to doze. "I hate you more every day." she growled from under the coat.

Marshall threw his head back and laughed hard as he steered the SUV into the street. His laughs became giggles and Mary couldn't help but smile under her coat. "_I love him more every day._" She thought as she finally closed her eyes to sleep.

***** That was fun! Let me know if you liked it, thanks! *****


	5. Chapter 5

** **So many requests for the salsa lesson that I had to develop the story out further. Working up to the lesson! There are spoilers all over the place, especially from season 1. I don't own any of the characters, of course…I'm just the one who makes them do what they do here.** **

**** 3 days after the fateful Salsa Bet ****

**Tuesday 7:15 am**

"Hey Squish," called Mary as she poked her head into Brandi's room. Brandi looked at her quizzically from the bed. "You have any skirts that would fit me?" Mary kept her voice very casual, hoping Brandi wouldn't ask too many questions.

As Mary had never asked to borrow Brandi's clothes before, her sister's interest was now piqued.

"Why?" mumbled Brandi as she threw off the covers to look in her closet. It was time to get up for class anyways. "You got a hot date?" She didn't think any of her skirts would fit Mary as her big sister was taller and larger framed than her.

"Of course not," tsked Mary, "I just have to go to this thing with Marshall and I have to wear a skirt and I don't have one that I've bought since the 90's." Again trying for blasé.

Brandi closed her closet door and crossed her arms over her chest, staring at Mary. "What thing?" she asked point blank.

Mary knew she could keep lying and get chased all over the house and hounded for an answer all morning, or she could just tell the truth and get her sister's help. Help won out. "If you must know, I'm taking a salsa lesson with him tonight. I lost a bet." She clarified the circumstances. It didn't matter, as Brandi's eyes lit up with mischief.

"How exciting!" she bubbled, "dancing a sexy, latin number with a tall, handsome man. You'll need to look hot!" she was pushing by Mary to go into Mary's room and look in her sister's closet.

"No, no and no!" protested Mary, following Squish into her own room and now regretting her decision to say anything. "There's not going to be any sexy dancing, Marshall is my partner not my boyfriend and I absolutely do not want to look hot! You can just wipe any thought of trying to turn this into a date out of your little mind."

Brandi pointedly ignored her as she was looking through Mary's clothing selection. "Geez, sis," she whined, "all your clothes are so boring. Don't you have anything colorful or interesting?" She had pulled out the two dresses Mary had, both black and simple.

"No…" drawled Mary dryly, "I don't really like to stand out in my line of work. It attracts bullets."

"Well, these definitely won't do" mused Brandi, scrunching up her face in disgust while looking at Mary's dresses. "You need a dress, not a skirt, and these two both scream "old maid"." Mary glared at her. She didn't think the dresses were _that_ bad. Brandi threw the dresses on the bed, put her hands on her hips, and walked around Mary eyeing her up and down.

"What do you wear," she asked Mary, "about a ten? That would be right…hmmm, and a 36 D would be my guess."

"_That's uncanny_," thought Mary, "_she's absolutely right_." "Yeah, why?" she asked her little sister.

"I'll be at the mall today anyway, so I'm going to buy a dress for you" Brandi announced, then recanted, "actually, you'll have to pay me back for the dress…you know…but..I'll get one!"

Brandi looked really excited about buying Mary a dress, and since she really did need a new dress to wear for other events anyway and no time to shop, Mary gave in. "O.k., thanks" she said, "but don't get anything weird or slinky…seriously, Squish. I don't want to be uncomfortable."

"No problem" called Brandi as she headed out to the kitchen, "I'll make sure it's nice and **proper **and stuff" she laughed as she said "proper". "You wouldn't want Marshall to get a boner or anything," she joked.

"Dammit, Brandi!" shouted Mary as she finished getting dressed for work, "you know better than that!" Mary was now having difficulty chasing that image out of her head.

Jinx had wandered into the middle of this conversation, and curiosity snapped her up into it. "Why would Marshall be getting all excited?" she asked.

"Because Mary and him have a date for salsa lessons!" Brandi giggled as she told her mother.

"It is NOT a DATE!!" yelled Mary again as she appeared in the hallway shrugging into her coat. She was glaring at Brandi and wishing again she had never said anything. And now it was worse because her mother was involved too. "I lost a bet and I **have** to go!"

"I'm going to buy her a dress today…something sexy" said Brandi to Jinx.

Jinx perked up and looked at Mary and asked, "Oh, sweetie, can I do your hair? You really would want to look nice for Marshall…he's such a nice boy!"

Mary stared at them in anguish, "Oh my god, do you people not listen to me? Get it into your heads…it's not…a…date!" She turned and yanked open the front door, stalked out and slammed it behind her.

Brandi and her mother just smiled at each other.

**Tuesday 8:25 am**

As soon as she got off the elevator, she knew the morning was only going to continue to go to hell in a handbasket. The office scene that greeted her did nothing but crank her level of irritation to a new high. Marshall and Stan were doing a poor rendition of a tango with Stan holding a flower in his mouth as latin music poured out of the CD player, and Eleanor sat on Marshall's desk watching them and clapping as the taller man attempted to dip Stan gracefully. They were all grinning like idiots, she noted. She stalked into the room and through the door and walked right up to stand next to Marshall, completely ignoring Eleanor and Stan.

"You freakin' **told** them?" she accused angrily.

Marshall looked down at her and raised one eyebrow, never flinching from his dance position, "The subject may have come up." He drawled. He could tell by her already pissy attitude that her morning must not have gone well. He briefly wondered if it was Brandi or Jinx that had already torqued her mood.

"I don't recall saying that you could tell anybody." She was trying to pick a fight now.

Marshall continued to dance with Stan and Stan was counting, "one..two…one…two". Marshall said very calmly, "I don't recall asking your permission." The music ended and the two men bowed to each other ridiculously. Eleanor clapped again, saying "Encore, encore!"

Mary turned on her instead, not getting the desired response from her partner, "I suppose you think this is funny?" Her tone remained nasty.

"Oh, Mary," sighed Eleanor, not wanting to get into another fight with the woman, "I think you'll have a fine time. Marshall seems to be a wonderful dancer and you might even have fun…expand your horizons." She slid off the desk and walked past Mary, trying to ignore the black look she was getting.

""Marshall seems to be a wonderful dancer"…" Mary mimicked nasally. "I suppose you would know that because you take salsa lessons too?" Stan had put the flower on Mary's desk on the way back to his office and Mary flicked it onto the floor with one finger as she sat down. Marshall had walked over to get a cup of coffee, hoping Eleanor was going to be able to talk Mary down before he developed a headache.

Eleanor didn't take the bait, and said instead, "No, not lessons, but my husband and I used to watch ballroom dancing competitions sometimes." Her thoughts drifted off as she said, "I always wanted to dance the salsa though…it's such a passionate dance…so sensual and erotic."

Marshall almost choked on his coffee as Eleanor spoke, and then almost spit it out again as he saw the look on Mary's face. She looked like she had just seen someone kick a puppy…appalled and angry at the same time. Her eyes snapped to him and he wondered if his will was up to date.

Marshall threw one hand in the air and said, "Don't get crazy, the dance lessons at my studio are strictly G-rated! No passion involved at all…I swear." He drew a little cross over his heart with his hand.

She narrowed her eyes at him and said, "I better not feel any passion, Pervis." She stuffed down the little twinge of disappointment she may have felt knowing the lesson would be G-rated. "_Stop it_" she thought.

"So," he started as he walked back to his desk, "did you find a skirt to wear?" He knew she had heels, she wore them everyday.

"Oh, you don't know when to quit, do you?" she snapped. He continued to stare at her.

"Fine," she sighed, "if you must know, Brandi is going to buy a dress for me today while she's at the mall. She said I didn't have anything "appropriate" and would find something for me." She was shuffling through her mail looking for anything to get her mind off this conversation and ever approaching dance lesson.

She felt Marshall continue to stare at her, silently, and snapped her head around to see what his problem was. He had a very odd, unsettled look on his face. "What is your deal, nitwit?" she asked.

Marshall said slowly, "Just recalling the last time your sister dressed you. Kinda one of the reasons you're in the situation you are now." He looked pained and continued, "I'm pretty sure you'd draw some unwanted attention at the studio dressed like that again." "_Not to mention the fact that I wouldn't last 5 minutes dancing with you in that get up_" he thought to himself.

"Right," she agreed with a hint of a smile, placing her forearms on her desk to look at him, "you just about went blind trying to talk to me in that dress, didn't you?"

"I did not! And anyway, you have to admit, there was a lot more of you to look at than I was used to seeing." He tried to defend himself.

"Oh give me a break, Prudence," she shot back, "I have a pool in my backyard. You've seen me in a swimming suit for Chrissake and didn't bat an eyelash."

"That's different!" he challenged, trying to find a way out of this trap, "a swimming suit is a…functional garment."

Eleanor cracked up and couldn't stifle her laughter anymore. "Really, Marshall," she said between chuckles, "a "functional garment"? Wasn't Mary's dress that you're talking about functional?" she asked. Mary was laughing now too and the women shared an understanding look between them. Men were so easy.

"Only if you're a skanky, crack whore," he muttered, trying to ignore the mutiny.

"Wait a minute, you!" Mary gasped while laughing, "you said I looked "nice"!" She intoned the word to imply a sexual meaning.

Marshall knew when he was beaten and snarked, "I lied." He turned his chair to face away from both of them and busied himself with his computer. Mary and Eleanor laughed harder.

Stan looked out of his office and saw the two women laughing and Marshall pointedly ignoring them to stare daggers at his monitor. "_Yeah, good luck, buddy_" he thought, turning back to his own work, "_those two will eat you alive._"

**Tuesday 3:15pm**

"C'mon, wench," Marshall said as he held his hand out for the key to the supply cabinet, "hand it over!"

For some unknown and likely not-want-to-be-known reason, Mary insisted on keeping the key to the supply cabinet secreted away. He figured it was some sort of control issue and usually didn't think twice about it, but this was the third time today he had to ask her for it and she was being surly and trying to make him do tricks to get it.

"Why can't you just let me have the damn key?" he asked her yet again, exasperated with this game. "I'm pretty sure I can keep from stealing the erasers, you know."

"Oh please!" sneered Mary, "the day you **take** it from me is the day I let you have it." She waved the key in the air.

Marshall's eyebrows rose as he put both palms on his desk. He was feeling a bit peevish after their morning exchange about the dance lesson and now this power play, and his usual thoughts of self preservation were being squashed. Mary needed a spanking. "You don't think I could take that from you?" he asked slowly.

Mary eyed him warily and slowly and deliberately placed the key in her front pocket. "I don't think you'd try." She challenged.

Eleanor sensed a change in tension in the office. Suddenly, there was a charge of excitement and feral energy overlying the usual bantering. She looked up at the two inspectors and thought, "_Well, that's interesting…_" Marshall looked more predatory than she had ever seen him and Mary's eyed glowed with anticipation. "_What do we have going on here?_" she wondered.

Marshall stood up and moved slowly around his desk, eyes focused on Mary. "_Uh oh_" thought Mary. She began to strategize. If she could keep furniture between her and her unusually physically threatening partner, she'd likely be fine. Otherwise, her ass was grass and she knew it. "_He could be bluffing_" she pondered, "_trying to see if I'm going to back down._" She stood her ground, watching him very closely for telltale signs of action.

Marshall continued to slowly stalk, and he was most definitely stalking, her. He began to grin and a glint entered his eyes.

Mary laughed nervously, "C'mon Mann, you're not really going to fight me for this, are you?" She recognized his stance from many years of fighting beside him. He was ready to roll and she was his intended target.

"No, Shannon," he mimicked as he smiled wider, "I'm going to take it from you." He quickly covered the distance to her desk. She squeaked, backstepped around her chair and rolled it in front of him to slow his advance. She continued moving backward toward the next table.

Eleanor's mouth dropped open. If she had known there was going to be a throw-down, she would've sold tickets! "_This is going to be priceless!_" she thought gleefully. Mary was going to get her sassy little ass kicked and there was no telling the casualties that would ensue. She noted the two partners were still smiling at each other, but their movements were with purpose.

Marshall was more wary than he let on. He knew he had to be careful if he was going to win this challenge and keep his vital organs intact. Girls, in general, fight dirty because they have to in order to make up for lack of strength and size compared to most of their opponents. Mary not only fought dirty, but she had the skills to actually maim and kill. A fantastic combination when she was on your side…not so good for you otherwise. His plan was to swiftly immobilize her and fish out the key. He knew he could do it quickly if the terrain cooperated. He rolled the chair out of his way and continued his advance…timing his attack.

Eleanor wished she had popcorn.

"_If he gets ahold of me, I'm doomed_" Mary thought quickly. She did not make the unwise and sometimes deadly mistake of underestimating Marshall's propensity to violence just because he was outwardly calm and smiling. She knew he was stronger and faster than she was, but she had a few tricks of her own…evasiveness being one. She was now behind the table with the printers and planned to keep it between him and her. She was eyeing the elevator straight ahead and through the doors.

Marshall put both hands on the table and kept moving forward, pushing it towards the wall five feet behind it, taking Mary with it. Mary quickly caught on to his game and nimbly ducked down, dove under the table, past Marshall's legs and took off at a run to the entrance into the office.

"_Damn, she's fast_!" he thought as he leaped after her, "_but not fast enough_." They were both laughing as he caught her wrist and spun her towards him. She briefly kept him from grabbing her other wrist by kicking at his shins, and he had to dance around to avoid taking a boot to his tibias. He did not, however, release her wrist

Eleanor was pondering WWF names for the pair.

Ultimately, brute strength and laughter won the round as Marshall seized her other wrist and spun her toward the wall. He didn't want her trying to bite him…yes, she would…when he dug the key out of her pocket. He pushed her front first into the wall, pinned both wrists over her head with one hand, held her there with his hips and reached into her front pocket to grab the prize. He was still chuckling and didn't realize Mary had become completely silent and still. "Any last words?" he joked as he bounced the key on his palm. There was a brief moment of silence before she whispered roughly "Please let me go."

Eleanor had stood up, recognizing the change in Mary's stance before Marshall did. Something was wrong, but she didn't know what it was.

The quietness of her whisper and plea in her tone set off his warning bells and he experienced a sickening moment of clarity. Even though he knew the generalities of what had happened to Mary in that basement when she had been kidnapped, she never revealed any details to him. His analytical brain processed the situation at light speed and spit out the conclusion. He had her pinned to the wall, wrists restrained and was messing with her pants…it must've be the exact same position she was in when that slimeball attempted to rape her. He released her with lightning speed and stepped back, horrified. "I'm so sorry!" he whispered, "I didn't think."

She took a deep breath and turned around to look at him, her face flushed. "It's o.k." she tried to reassure him "you didn't know so there's nothing to apologize for. Just took a strange turn, that's all." She smiled weakly at him. She saw the stricken look on his face and didn't want him to think he had done something wrong. Her reactions to past events should not have to hurt her partner. "Really," she assured him again with a hand on his arm, "it's o.k. It was just a silly reaction."

"It's not o.k." he said with all seriousness, "and it's not silly. I should never have put you in that position and I'm truly sorry. I** never** meant to scare you!" He looked as though he was in pain.

"Marshall" she softly called his attention to her, making him look at her "you could never scare me in that way. Never think that I could confuse you with him…ever. The thoughts I had of you were what got me through that nightmare. You saved me." She saw him relax slightly and then realized Eleanor was watching them. She had forgotten the other woman was in the office. She reached up to tousle her partner's hair teasingly.

She spoke more loudly, "Well, you won that round, dork. Don't let it go to your head, because I went easy on you." She headed back to her desk, her vital signs returning to normal. "_Jesus, please don't let him dwell on this._" She thought. She knew Marshall could go into a week long funk if he couldn't shake this off.

Not knowing entirely what had happened, but realizing it had been significant, Eleanor made a note of the interaction between the two Marshals. She couldn't hear exactly what Mary had said, but the pained and guilty expression on Marshall's face had been replaced by worry and thoughtfulness. Mary continued to look unsettled, but bounced back quickly. They had gone from playful and flirtatious one moment to deadly serious and deeply emotional the next. Even though it seemed some insult had been done to Mary, _she_ was the one to offer Marshall comfort and reassurance. They still never ceased to amaze her…there were many, many levels to their relationship and she couldn't keep up with them as they moved between them.

Marshall grabbed his jacket and headed out the door saying, "I've got two witnesses left to see today. Just the usual check in." He didn't look at Mary or Eleanor on his way out.

"Marshall…" said Mary warningly.

"I'll see you tonight at 7:30, Mare," He tossed over his shoulder, "and try to be ready on time for once, o.k.?"

"Yeah…we'll see if you can actually drag me out of the house." She retorted, feeling reassured that he was just going to take some time to himself to regroup and not hole up and ignore everyone. "_He'll be fine,_" she told herself. She looked up to see Eleanor watching her oddly. "What?" she snarked at her, back to being her usual, prickly self. Eleanor wisely said nothing.

------------------------------------

***** I thought it would be just like Mary to try to taunt Marshall into fighting her. She knows she'll lose, but it somehow gives her satisfaction to get beaten by him…don't know why! Keep reading…there's passion coming!! *****


	6. Chapter 6

***** Spoilers, spoilers everywhere. Also, read my other story, "Choices" to get some insight on some references within this story. Enjoy! *****

**Tuesday 6:30 pm**

The dress was a deep, ruby red with a flared skirt that whirled around her upper calves. The one shoulder style fell to an empire waisted bodice. A slightly heavier, slightly clingy fabric…Mary could never remember what different fabrics were called unless they were jean or cotton. It was simple, almost elegant, but no too dressy. It seemed perfect, even in her fashion impaired mind. Brandi was good! She looked at herself again in the mirror and felt…pretty. And she had to admit, it fit beautifully! Mary wasn't used to seeing herself in a well fitted dress as she usually wore one of the two earlier rejected dresses she had owned for years. Squish had even gotten her a bra to fit under the one shoulder style. "_Hey_" she thought, "_it's a lot more comfortable than duct tape!_"

"Wow" whispered Brandi, sitting on Mary's bed with a stunned expression, "you look amazing, sis! Spin around!" she commanded.

Mary gave a half hearted spin then stopped abruptly, frowning, and said "o.k. that's enough. Thanks, Squish…it's a great dress. It was nice of you to go to the trouble." Her expression was sour as she removed the dress and put on her robe.

Brandi was confused. Mary had looked like she was enjoying wearing the dress a minute ago…what happened? "Hey…what's wrong? All of a sudden you got, like, mad and stuff. Don't you like it?"

"I said it was a great dress, didn't I?" snapped Mary as she finished dressing.

"Yeah, you did, but…" puzzled Brandi. "Well, do you think Marshall will like it?" she asked instead.

Her sister's black look got blacker as she headed into the bathroom, "God, Brandi...I don't give a flying rat's ass what Marshall thinks about the dress!" she flipped, her tone heated. "I'm only wearing it because it's "the rules"…it's idiotic".

Brandi had what could only be called an epiphany. "_Ah ha_!!" she thought as her eyes widened. She may not have the common sense of a walnut at times, but she knew when her sister was lying and when she was being evasive. Mary was doing both right now. "_Oh my god…Mary _does_ care what Marshall thinks about that dress! Mary has a crush on Marshall!_" Brandi's thoughts raced and she wiggled on the bed. Of course, she couldn't say this out loud. She and her belongings would end up on the street corner waiting for the next bus out of town if Mary knew what she was thinking. "_How long has she been carrying a torch for her partner…and vice versa_?" she wondered, playing their interactions over the last year or so through her mind. "_I bet she didn't even know herself until after she broke up with Chico._" She smacked herself on her forehead, "Geez…how did I miss that?" she muttered.

"Miss what?" asked Mary as she looked out the bathroom doorway.

"Uh…nothing really..." Brandi looked like she had been caught with her hand in the whiskey closet, "just an assignment I've been working on…uh…for Psychology. Yeah. I gotta go!" she slid off the bed and out the door.

Mary watched her disappear with narrowed eyes. Something was up and she had a feeling it would turn out in a disaster, as always.

She went back to the mirror to finish her hair and stared at herself. "_What is wrong with me_?" she wondered. She was troubled by the thought that had popped into her head when Brandi asked her to twirl around… "_I wonder if Marshall will think I'm pretty in this dress_?" It was something a bubble headed teenie bopper would think in a bad Elvis Presley movie. She wondered if she may be developing a brain tumor…letting Brandi buy her a dress…thinking she looked pretty…wondering if Marshall…

"Get a grip, Shannon!" she hissed at herself in the mirror. It had been six months since she had become aware of the fact that she was in love with her partner. Up until today, she had not run into any situations where it had been distracting. Their relationship remained the same, just deeper somehow. So now, with the looming dance lesson and the office incident this afternoon, why are her rational thoughts being sucker punched by her hormones? "_O.k_." she pondered, "_I haven't had sex in about seven months…that's a problem in itself_". But she certainly hadn't thought of Marshall quite like that…not really…well, maybe kinda…

"_Stop it!_" she told herself again, throwing the brush into the sink, "_you will not be any good to him or yourself if you start thinking of him as man candy!_" Her thoughts flashed back to their ill fated wrestling match earlier. He thought she had gotten upset about how he was pinning her only because of what had happened in that basement. Yes, initially, being pushed into that wall triggered a fear reaction based on her experience, but nothing had prepared her for the immediate and traitorous shift her body underwent a moment later. **Those** were the feelings that stilled her and wrenched the plea from her lips. The flash of heat from her core with the feel of his chest on her back…his breath in her ear…the belt buckle rubbing on her waist…his hips pressed against her…

"Oh my friggin' god" she exclaimed as she threw her hands into the air and stomped out of the bathroom, "I really need to get laid." She concentrated on thoughts of work and witnesses in order to take the edge off so she could finish getting ready for what she knew was only going to be torture.

**Tuesday 7:20 pm**

Marshall approached the door of Mary's house, carefully listening for any sounds of drama from within. He was grateful to hear silence, and attributed that partially to the fact that Peter's car was also in the driveway. If Brandi was distracted, it was less likely that she and Mary would be fighting…that, and Mary seemed to actually respect and like Peter.

Marshall had to admit he was feeling a bit unsettled about the evening. His emotions were still jumbled and his hormones confused after the wrestling match at work. He shook his head, remembering. As he was digging that key out of Mary's pocket, he had become aware of the softness of her body as he pressed her against the wall, and the smell of her hair, and the feel of her hipbone under his hand in her pocket. "_Geez_…" his hissed to himself as he adjusted his jeans, "_here I go again. This is not what I need to be thinking about right now…or ever!_" He wasn't sure why thoughts of the woman made him react like he was sixteen again. He switched his thoughts over to her reaction and quieted quickly. He still felt extraordinarily guilty about scaring her, even though she seemed very sincere in letting him know she was o.k. and he was not being held responsible. He knew how intimately their bodies had been in contact and that his hand was only in her pocket, and the wave of anger and hate that had washed over him thinking of another man actually violating her in that position was in tsunami proportion. He still wished he would've had the chance to kill the bastard himself. His protective instinct towards her had become stronger since she had been shot, and this latest reminder of injury had jacked it up again. "_This cannot get in the way of our partnership or friendship,_" he silently reminded himself, "_she has to have her space and I cannot crowd her or make her think I'm caring for or protecting her…or god forbid, loving her. I could suffer grave injury!_" He chuckled, thinking of Mary's reaction to his current train of thought.

He was settled now, and bracing himself for the inevitable verbal sparring, knocked on the door.

"Oooh!" Brandi squealed and jumped up from sitting next to Peter on the couch, "Marshall's here!" She called out so Mary would hear her. Peter smiled and shook his head and got up to also greet Mary's partner.

Brandi opened the door and jumped up to give Marshall a hug while saying , "I'm so excited that you're taking Mary out to dance! Wait 'til you see her new dress!"

Marshall returned Brandi's hug and mouthed "Help!" over her shoulder to Peter. Peter chuckled and reached over to untangle his girlfriend from the hapless man. Marshall still harbored some anger towards Mary's younger sister for all the crap she had brought down on all of them over the last year, but since Brandi had been going back to school and dating Peter, the younger woman seemed to be at last maturing and her company was growing on him. "You didn't dress her like you did the last time, did you?" he asked her cautiously.

"What was wrong with that?" asked Brandi, confused, "she looked hot…and you look great!" She was studying Marshall's outfit with a critical eye as she switched the subject. He had on his jeans, as usual, but had worn a slightly looser fitting, black silk oxford shirt. He had traded his "trailer trash" belt and buckle, as Mary referred to them, for a plain, black belt with a simple buckle. Of course, the cowboy boots were ever present.

"Um hmm.." mumbled Marshall. "Hey Peter," he shook the man's hand, "how's the business?"

"Good, good," said Peter, "yours?" He grinned slyly as he asked.

Marshall had figured out a while ago that Peter had figured out what he and Mary actually did. The man wasn't the richest and most successful businessman in Albuquerque for no reason, he was very sharp. Marshall liked the man and truly appreciated his discretion. "You know…guarding crooks and uppity councilmen…pretty routine." He replied with a grin.

Brandi interrupted the exchange by grabbing Peter's hand and pulling him into dance position with her. "Marshall," said Brandi, "teach us some salsa moves…I hear it's a very sexy and racy dance!" She had pitched her voice louder so that Mary would hear her in the back bedroom.

"I'm not taking the bait, twit!" Yelled Mary while smiling, "I know you're all out there just trying to rile me up!" She finished putting in her last earring and walked out of the bedroom, feeling pretty satisfied with herself that she was ready on time. Also wondering why she had put such effort into actually being ready on time.

Marshall was chuckling at Brandi's attempt to taunt Mary when his partner walked into the living room. All the air was instantly sucked out of his universe and he could only stare. She was utterly, and entirely, gorgeous. He had never seen her like this before and could never have imagined it. Sure, they had been to social functions before and she had worn a dress or put her hair up or other casually dressy attempts, but tonight it was all put together in a package that could only be described as stunning. He wasn't really aware of the fact that he was standing there with his mouth slightly agape until Brandi reached up and closed it with a finger under his chin.

"I think he likes the dress, sis!" she said to Mary with a wink. Then snapped her fingers and dashed into her room.

Mary, having seen the look of stunned wonder on her partner's face, decided this moment needed to be milked for all it was worth. Men had looked at her many times with appreciation, but it had never felt so satisfying as seeing it in Marshall's eyes. She, in turn, had noted Marshall's outfit and once again had to beat hormonal rebellion into submission. The fact that the top button on his shirt was undone seemed to somehow make her knees a little trembly. That was weird. To once again gain the upper emotional hand, as she preferred, she deliberately twirled around and posed provocatively to gauge his reaction.

The dress molded to her in all the right, or wrong, places…he couldn't decide. It swirled around her legs seductively and her bare shoulder was preoccupying his visual field. "_This could possibly be worse than the skanky ho dress,_" he thought… "_I may actually go blind now._" Her hair was tied loosely in a low ponytail over her covered shoulder. Marshall walked over to stand about a foot in front of her and very lightly brushed his fingers over her bare shoulder. He looked her in the eye and said, "You're beautiful."

Mary couldn't breathe, her attempt to throw Marshall off balance had backfired completely. The brief contact his fingers had made with her bare skin had left trails of lightning behind and she felt the hairs at the back of her neck tingle. His quiet, sincere and simple words of praise carried the weight of much more meaning and she realized the man standing in front of her was the most important person in her universe…and she was his. "Thank you." She whispered, afraid to move.

Peter always suspected these two secretly pined for each other, but what he was witnessing now was something to behold. He doubted either one of them knew he was still in the room, nor did they realize they were both hopelessly in love with each other. "_Poor saps_," he thought, "_what a mess they will have to work out at some point. __Hope they don't jump each other's bones tonight…Mary will be insufferable for a long time if that happens_."

The spell was broken as Brandi scampered back into the room exclaiming, "One more thing!" She was unaware, thankfully, of the moment she had just missed. She dabbed a spot of perfume onto the back of Mary's neck and just about lost a hand. "Hey!" she yelped as Mary whirled to grab her wrist.

"I don't wear perfume!" scowled Mary, almost reaching back to wipe off the offending spot before realizing that action would just smear it around and get it on her hand too.

"I got it" said Marshall dryly as he pulled out a handkerchief and rubbed gently at the wet spot on Mary's neck. "It won't get it off completely, but at least I won't pass out on the dance floor from the fumes now" he joked. He tucked the cloth back into his pants pocket. He thought it actually smelled kind of nice…musky.

He looked at his watch and announced, "Hey, it's time to go, Chanel No.5," he teased, "don't want to be late to meet the teacher!"

"You're not seriously going to introduce me to the teacher, are you?" she was kind of worried about that for some reason. They headed out the door to the goodbyes from Peter and Brandi. "Is that some kind of rule too?"

"Nah, just a courtesy" he replied, opening the door of the SUV for her, "that and she likes to call everyone by their names…a lot." He didn't elaborate.

Mary was unusually quiet on the ride, Marshall noted. He wondered if she was thinking about the scene in her living room…he certainly was having a hard time getting it out of his mind. His gaze also kept sliding over to her legs, the way the dress outlined her thighs was fascinating him and he was having a really hard time restoring order to his thoughts. "_This is not the way I think about my partner!_" he chastised himself internally, "_I have to stop this._"

"If you ogle my legs one more time I'm going to possibly gouge your eyes out." She said with malice, "Are you going to be able to pull your brain out of your groin and actually act normal tonight?"

"Thank you" he said in retort.

"Huh?...why did you just thank me?" she was confused.

"I'm now reminded that even the most cleverly cloaked cobra is deadly if provoked." He replied cryptically with a grin. "I promise I shall not act like a sexual organ for the rest of the evening" he continued in the same, uppity voice, trying to suppress a chuckle.

She had to bark a laugh at that, "Damn straight!"

They both continued to chuckle intermittently for the remainder of the ride and talked about some of their cases. Odd images flitting through their brains.

They pulled up to the dance studio and Mary felt her stomach drop. She looked at Marshall and said, "You do know, don't you, that I really do not know how to dance?" hoping her statement might somehow change his mind about taking her into the studio.

"I'm not worried about it," he said as he exited the car and tried to get around to her side before she got herself out. "_What is it about a woman in a dress that makes you want to open all the doors for her?" _he wondered. Of course, he was too slow and she was already standing on the curb when he reached her. He continued his statement, "I've watched you move over the last few years and you're very coordinated and graceful. I'm sure you'll catch on without a problem. Just don't step on my feet." He tried to offer her his elbow and she made a face at him and smacked it away.

"No promises," she began, "but I'm going to have a hard time letting you lead. I tend to be a little aggressive…you may have noticed." She snickered.

"Really?" he mocked sarcastically, "I'm shocked."

Mary's nervousness lessened as she realized the general feel in the air from the other participants was one of lighthearted fun with a genuine interest in learning the details of the dance. Marshall was well liked, and some of the other ladies seemed very pleased to see he finally had brought a partner. She was surprised. She knew he dated occasionally and wondered why he had never brought a girlfriend to lessons. She'd have to rib him about that later. Marshall, meanwhile, noted that every male eye in the room focused on Mary when they entered and lingered entirely too long after that. He felt strangely proud to have brought her.

The introductions went smoothly and Mary actually liked the diminutive dance instructor named Kiki. She was probably seventy five years old, all of 5'2 and 110 lbs and had the attitude of a drill sergeant. Her accent was thick and she liked to say your name three times when giving you instructions. "Mary, Mary, Mary…no, no…you must let the **man** lead. Do not take liberties with your partner!"

"Yeah," said Marshall innocently, "no liberties, you bully". Mary deliberately stepped on his toe again.

Mary had to reluctantly admit that Marshall was a very good dancer, based on her limited experience. There didn't seem to be any lingering sexual tension between the two as he instructed her on the basic salsa stance and showed her where to place her hands, and how to complete some basic moves such as turning under his arm or rolling into him and back out by one arm. He was a good teacher. "Wow," she said with a smile after completing a series of moves fairly smoothly, "this really is kind of fun!"

"See," he said smugly, "I could've thought of worse torture for you. Plus, it works out for me too."

"How so?" she wondered.

"Well, for one," he continued as they launched into another round of dancing, "I finally have a partner who's tall enough for me." She hadn't realized it until then, but the other women at the class were all at least three inches shorter than her in her heels. "Two, you won't try to ask me out on a date after class. And three, you smell nice." He added that third one just to mess with her head. She stepped on his toe again, and he was sure it was on purpose as he winced. She was laughing now and he realized he was having the most fun at dance class than he had ever had before.

"Class, class, class…" called their instructor as she clapped her hands, "you've all done such a wonderful job of learning our salsa moves tonight that I wanted to try something new and fun. We're going to try some Tango!" the teacher was grinning and wiggling her hips and she looked very excited. She called her assistants over to demonstrate the new dance moves.

Mary watched intently, worried this new style might be too complicated. She was really caught up in the whole experience and was, as usual, single mindedly concentrating on the task at hand. The move being demonstrated involved the woman standing with her back against the man's front. His right hand rested on her abdomen with her hand over his, and their left arms reached out with clasped hands. They had to walk a few steps to the left, she then turned under his arm and back into the prior embrace, and then there was supposed to be this wiggly move she was confused about doing. Marshall seemed to be quite intent on his part too, he hadn't said a word. The instructor saw Mary try the move hesitantly and said to her, "Mary, Mary, Mary…not so timid. Make like a figure eight with your hips. You are dancing, not settling into a chair!" She turned to help another couple.

"_O.k_," thought Mary, "_a figure eight_." She concentrated on sliding around, down and back up again and smiled as she thought she had gotten it right. Marshall's hand gripped her midsection and ribs so tightly she jumped and said, "Ow!...what are you doing?" The teacher was telling everyone what a good job they did as she dismissed the class.

She felt his breath in her ear and heard his words as he spoke through obviously gritted teeth, "Do not…do that…again." She became intensely aware of a few things: the pressure of Marshall's hand against her abdomen and lower ribs and heated weight of it as he shifted his grip slightly…and the fact that they were pressed together the complete length of their bodies from her shoulders to her buttocks. Heat flared within her and she became aware of yet one more thing, likely what prompted Marshall's command.

"Oh, buddy," she cautiously intoned in a very low voice, "that better not be passion I feel."

They sprang apart, breathing heavily, and regarded each other with heat in their gazes. Mary was never so glad she had a woman's body that didn't give her away in situations like this. She jumped to her own defense as desire and embarrassment roiled, and challenged, "Too much woman for you?"

Not to be outdone, and trying to keep her gaze from wandering, Marshall let his eyes drop to her chest and back to her face. He smiled evilly and said knowingly, "I didn't realize it was chilly in here."

Her eyes widened and she looked down at herself quickly. "_Oh damn,_" she thought "_he's good," _as she crossed her arms over her traitorous bustline_, "Check…and mate_." The absurdity of the situation hit her at that point and she threw her head back and began to laugh harder than she had laughed in a long time. Tension and embarrassment fueling the hilarity and draining out of her.

Seeing his partner in gales of laughter was a rare sight, and Marshall couldn't help but joining in knowing why it had come to this. After a few minutes, they were both wiping tears from their eyes as they clung to each other in order to keep from falling to the floor. They were hiccupping with giggles and trying to stop laughing, mainly unsuccessfully.

"Jesus," she gasped, "I need a drink!"

"Oh honey," he groaned, trying to avoid a new round of giggles, "I need at least two!"

And that's how they ended up in a bar across town, over-dressed and noisy, and getting completely sloshed. The night, however, was not finished with them yet.

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***** It was inevitable that the partnership would experience times of sexual tension (as it has within the show) and my version of them slowly accepting the fact they love each other allowed me to jack it up a notch. The salsa lesson was actually difficult to write, so I hope you liked it! Keep reading to see where our daring emotional duo land next! *****


	7. Chapter 7

***** Spoilers and references to another of my stories. I'm trying to keep them all aligned. How I picture M/M getting their drunk on…emotional rollercoasters *****

**Wednesday 12:30 am**

They both tried to drink the other under the table, and when Marshall fell off his chair, they realized it was time to start the sobering up process so they'd be able to actually get home at some point.

They had talked about anything and everything all night, from telling and retelling outrageous stories of idiotic witness stunts to seriously and gravely discussing relationship woes and her worries about her scars from the shooting. Amazingly, even after knowing each other for four years, they both discovered things they still didn't know about the other. Mary's favorite flower was the lilac, preferably white, and Marshall had a weird phobia of dust bunnies.

"Seriously!?" said Mary with an incredulous look on her face, "dust bunnies? How do you clean your house?"

"Well, if they're really small, I can pick them up and throw them away if I wear gloves." He couldn't meet her eyes, "otherwise, I have to push them into a corner with a broom and vacuum them up." He kind of wished they were still drinking for this topic to be discussed, embarrassed.

She continued to stare at him, trying to process this information and failing miserably, swallowing a laugh.

"Oh come on," he challenged, waving his hand at her, "there's gotta be something that you're scared of too! I know you're not always as bad ass as you try to come across."

She tossed her hair back, stood up and assumed a pirate type pose and announced, "What you see is what you get. Bad ass through and through!" Those actions attracted the eyes of most of the males in the room and Marshall didn't really feel like getting into a brawl at this point in the evening.

He grabbed her around the waist and put her back in her chair, "Would you sit down, you fool! You're going to have half the men in the bar crawling all over you in a minute!" he growled at her, always amazed by her bravado. That's when a little light bulb went on in his brain. If he was a betting man, he'd say Mary was afraid of a lot of things and covered quite well with sass, bravado and downright meaness. Her modus operandi of retreating from any emotional situation allowed her to avoid having to admit to any weakness. "_Interesting_." he mused.

He leaned over to whispered conspiratorally in her ear, "I know a secret!"

"Ooooo, do tell!" she replied, eyes agleam. She was pretty sure she'd remember this in the morning now that she was sobering up and was actually interested in what he was going to say.

"You fight like a girl and you look like one too." He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

The next twenty minutes were spent in pure juvenile activities including a tickle fight and arm wrestling as she tried, and failed, to prove her superior strength. Ten more minutes had to be attached to that for them to catch their breaths and readjust clothing articles that had become dislodged from their proper positions. Between the physical exertion and laughter, they were nearly sober and starting to feel tired.

The chit chat turned more somber as their drunk wore off.

"Remember what I asked you after Raphael went ape shit at your house?" he asked suddenly, referring to an event six months past, "about why you kept the important things to yourself?"

Mary remembered the conversation, but wasn't quite sure where he was going with this or why he suddenly brought it up. "Yeah, I remember. I kinda thought it was rhetorical at the time."

"Well, I'm making it non-rhetorical now. I really want to know. Why are you so closed mouthed about things that affect you most deeply? Surely, you know me well enough to let me in on some things." The remnants of the tequila were keeping him brave. "You must know that when you're off your game because of some event that occurs in your life, it affects me. I'm like your own, personal remora fish…feeding off your emotions sometimes. Just hangin' on for dear life. I really thought I had earned your trust a long while ago…but I keep getting reminders that I'm still out of the Mary loop." He had decided to push that emotional button to see what he would get back.

Of course, to emphasize his very point, Mary felt herself get aggravated. "What are you talking about? Of course I trust you, you moron! You're the only person on this planet I trust completely. Why does it matter if I tell you every frickin' thing that goes on in my life?" "_And what the hell is a remora fish_?" she thought distractedly. "What…do you want read my diary too?" she shot at him.

He placed his hand on her wrist and looked at her hard, "If you had let me in, really let yourself trust me, we wouldn't have had the situation we had today at work! I wouldn't have done what I did, and I wouldn't still feel like a total jerk." He sat back and ran his hands through his hair while she just stared at him. "Aagh," he grunted, "you don't know what that did to me, Mare. I just wanted to erase the whole moment…make it not happen because I didn't know what you were going to think of me now...shit." He was really disturbed now, she could tell.

"Stop it, Marshall." She said calmly, putting her hand on his knee to capture his attention. "I knew you were going let this get to you and I'm telling you to stop it. I will say this once, so listen closely. I think you are my best friend and the only person in this world who wouldn't hurt me…the same now as before. I don't look at you or think of you any differently. You are still the one I would come to first if I needed help." She tried to inject the most conviction possible into her voice.

He looked at her and saw complete sincerity in her face and body language. "O.k…I believe you." he relented, "but the question still stands: Why do you keep me out? Why didn't you tell me about it?"

Maybe it was the liquor, maybe it was the overwhelming urge to take the hurt out of his eyes, but she told him the truth. "Because I have to protect you, Marshall." She recalled another conversation when he told her nearly the same thing. Marshall wanted to protect her from the world, but she wanted to protect Marshall from herself.

He blinked at her, not understanding. "What? That doesn't make sense."

She placed her hand over his, "You are the **one thing** in my life that represents all that is good and kind, honorable and trustworthy," she began, not able to stop the words continuing to fall out of her mouth like water over a dam, "I won't taint that with the ugliness and pain that get inside of me. I won't see that hurt in your eyes or worry on your face because I can't be strong enough to carry it myself. I'm not sure of who I am sometimes, and I'm not always sure I'm a good person. But I know who you are, and what you are to me, and I have to keep you safe…from me." Her voice broke as she finished the sentence, and she got up and excused herself to the restroom…escaping.

Marshall was dumbfounded. Never would he have thought that was the reason Mary put up the walls to keep him out. All he wanted was for her to lean on him and let him help her carry all the burdens that came her way, and she'd been doing everything possible to keep that from happening. She thought that letting him in would take him away and she was willing to sacrifice any comfort and support to make sure he didn't disappear or feel the hurt. He shook his head in wonder as her speech had revealed how vulnerable she really was…more than he had ever expected. She would bear any pain herself, now matter how awful, so that she could keep him free from it. Of course, he realized, he'd do the same for her…because he loved her. "_Well then,_" he thought, "_what do you know_?" Mary Shannon loved him. And his heart did a little dance of joy. He paid the tab, called a cab and moved to stand by the door, knowing she'd want to leave when returning. She was going to be all prickly and stand-offish now because of what she had revealed.

Mary headed back to the table wrestling with her own demons. She didn't know why she told him what she did. Maybe it was just time to be honest with him…god knows he puts up with enough dishonesty and evasiveness from her all the time. Of course, she was now worried she had pushed him away. "_What's done is done_" she resigned to herself. She saw the empty table and her heart stopped briefly before she spotted him waving at her from near the door. "_Crap_" she thought "_I thought he had left me here_." She wound her way to him…again attracting every male eye in the room.

"No," he said as she reached him, "I didn't leave you here." She hated it when he read her mind. "I just figured it was time to call it a night. It's been an especially interesting day and we're both tired." She was grateful he seemed to have dropped the subject. They stepped out onto the curb to wait for the cab. He was obviously deep in thought, and she was just letting him have some silence.

"Hey" he said as he placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him, looking at her strangely, "don't."

"Don't what?" she asked, unsure.

"Don't protect me anymore." He said softly. "I'm not going to leave you because you ask me for help or, god forbid, cry on my shoulder. Your pain could never be a burden for me. You've tried to push me away before and have found out I'm stuck like glue to…hmmm, if I finish that sentence I'm going to sound like Dr. Seuss," he chuckled as did she. He tried a different approach, "Mary, I promised you once I'd stand by you until the day I died and I stick to that. I don't know what more I can say or do to make you believe that…except this…" he placed his lips on hers.

"_Oh…my…god, what's happening?"_ she was utterly surprised and shocked. His mouth fit on hers perfectly and every synapse in her brain shorted out. She was instantly immersed in sensations…warmth, pressure, taste…with an insatiable need for more. Her one arm reached up to encircle his neck and the other found a belt loop on his jeans and pulled him closer.

Marshall had no idea of what awaited him when he kissed her. It was an impulse, a need to just connect with her beyond words, and he never imagined it would virtually bring him to his knees. There was no awkwardness, no sense of strangeness…it was…like finding a part of yourself you didn't even know was missing. Her scent, her taste…the feel of her arms holding him and pulling him closer…that's all he knew at that moment. His hands left her shoulders and one tangled in her hair while the other wrapped around her waist and completed her attempt to pull them together. That additional contact just about undid him and he deepened the kiss involuntarily.

She was on fire and was going to end up as a pile of ashes, she was sure. Her skin burned everywhere as he pressed them together and she felt like she couldn't get close enough, her hand at his waist climbing to grip the shirt on his back. His kiss was molten and intoxicating and she moaned into it.

That sound is what penetrated the utter mush that used to be his brain. "_If I don't quit now, we're not going to be able to stop_," he realized. That wasn't the plan…not at all. He reluctantly released her and pulled back to again set his hands on her shoulders and place his forehead against hers. His body was taut with desire and he had to take deep breaths to calm himself. Thankfully, she must've understood why he ended the kiss because she didn't protest. She dropped her hands to his waist and stood there, trembling slightly, he noted.

"My god" she whispered, "you need to come with a warning sign. What did you do to me?"

"The same thing you did me, apparently." He shakily replied and swallowed, continuing, "I'm going to put you in the cab now and you're going to go home so that I don't do something we'll both regret. Tonight, I'm protecting you from me."

She looked up at him and smiled wryly, "what if I don't want to be protected?" she asked teasingly.

"Don't tempt me, Miss Shannon," he smiled and shook his head. "Go home and get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow." He helped her into the cab. "Oh…" he leaned down to look at her, "and you really need to work on letting me lead. I'm going to have bruises on my feet for a week."

She rolled her eyes and said half heartedly, "Jerk!"

He laughed and closed the door. "I love you too," he told the retreating car.

**Wednesday 2:45 am**

Sleep eluded her. For Mary, that was like a lamb eluding a lion. She could sleep anywhere…anytime…but not tonight. She lay atop the covers, trying to get comfortable. She couldn't shake the weirdness of the evening. What had happened on that curb? Even knowing the moment was inevitable at some point in their partnership, she had felt like a fourteen year old virgin having her first kiss. Every fiber of her being had been on fire, and some parts really should not be heated up that much if a man wanted to keep his clothes on. She had never been kissed like that before…ever. Her kisses had always been hard and passionate with desperation and need. This had been…like drowning. At first frightening and unknown, then you become completely unaware of anything except sensation and pleasure as you succumb. The thoughts of the kiss initiated a new round of tossing and turning as she again became uncomfortable. "_That damn man is going to make me crazy_!" she shook her fists at the ceiling.

Deep down, she knew why what happened tonight was a moment she had dreaded. It's easy to love someone from afar, never knowing what it would be like to have them love you back…to have them hold you. Marshall had said it with his eyes, his words and his actions for a while now and she could only avoid seeing it and hearing it for so long. That kiss, that damn little kiss, said more than enough for both of them and they both knew it. Now came the hard part…living with that knowledge.

This is when that four letter word becomes terrifying. It lets someone get inside you…someone that can mess you up. You spend your life building up defenses, wearing your suit of armor so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person…just one…wanders into your stupid life and you give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it, they just did something that your heart longed for and then your heart isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It eats you up…it hurts. A real get-inside-your-soul-and-rip-you-apart pain. "I hate love." She fiercely whispered. Her heart disagreed.

She remembered a quote she once heard in a movie: "Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?" "_Yes_," she thought "_yes I have_." And that devil had run his fingers through her soul, leaving behind his scent, his touch and a yearning to surrender. She'd sell him her soul to dance with him again, but he already possessed it….along with her heart.

***** That's it! After a long day of repressed desire and a night of rowdy drinking, I figured the kiss wouldn't have been too OOC. Their defenses were down and they were rediscovering each other from a different angle. I bet Marshall is sleeping with that handkerchief ! Thank you for reading and for your reviews! *****


	8. Chapter 8

***** o.k. I lied. The last chapter wasn't the final one! I just keep getting fun ideas. This is about 3 weeks after the salsa lesson and kiss. Just a glimpse, again, into the jobs of the Marshalls. A little story with Bobby D and some bickering between M/M. Obviously, the kiss and all it's meaning haven't changed them much! **

**Actually, no spoilers...what do ya know? Some language and violence. Enjoy! *****

**---------------------------------------------**

**Monday 8:00 pm**

"Give it to me!" demanded Mary as Marshall held the extra ammo clip over his head, out of her reach.

"No!" he said for the fourth time, "go back to the truck and get your own. This one's mine." He was glaring at her now.

Bobby Dershowitz, now clad in swat garb with his vest on, came around the side of the video wagon and happened upon the odd scene. He had gotten word that his team would have federal back up on this operation, but expected ATF or DEA, not the USMS…and certainly not Tweedle Dum and Tweedle Dee. He knew what these two meant, there was a protected witness involved in all of this. He sighed. Watching the duo was like watching seven year olds on a playground.

Mary was trying to pull Marshall's arm down and continued to complain, "I don't want to walk all the way back to the car. Why can't you just give me that one?"

Marshall rolled his eyes and repeated himself yet again, "Because this one is mine. I'm not the one who forgot her extra ammo clips in the truck. It's only a block away, Mare." She was now nearly hanging from his shoulder in her ridiculous attempts and Marshall reached the end of his patience. She had been especially difficult today. "Shannon, if you don't stop hanging on me and go get your own clips by the time I count to three, this'll get ugly." He spoke to her through clenched teeth.

Their eyes met as he said, "One…." She stopped moving and continued to lock gazes. "Two…" he continued, his voice lowered and eyes intense. "Thr…." He never finished because suddenly she got down and said "Jesus…fine!" and stalked away toward the truck with the parting comment of "You're such a freakin' baby!" Marshall watched her with narrowed eyes in case she tried to come back with a sneak attack.

Dershowitz shook his head with confusion and amusement. "What were you going to do if you had gotten to three?" He asked Marshall as he walked over to the man.

Marshall was intent on checking his vest straps and duty belt, and he didn't miss a beat to say, "I would've kicked her little ass all the way back to the truck."

Bobby snorted a laugh and said, "Do you think you could really kick her ass?" Mary was certifiably crazy and Marshall never seemed like an aggressive man, and neither did he come off as threatening.

The tall Marshal looked at him from under his brow and raised one eyebrow as he spoke, "Do you really think we'd still be partners if I couldn't?" He walked over toward the open doors of the video truck to check his radio.

"_Interesting thought_" mused the detective. Made sense, though, if you considered it. Mary would've tested Marshall thoroughly during the course of their partnership and he must have passed for her to trust him as much as she did. "_There's more to the man than you see_." he silently concluded.

"So," he continued to address Marshall, "what really brings you two out on our little adventure?"

"What, we can't just offer to help our fellow law enforcement agencies with tricky operations?" Marshall said innocently, shrugging his shoulders.

"Coming from anyone but you, I might believe that. But considering my suspects and/or evidence seem to amazingly disappear when you're around, I'm just having a hard time seeing a goodwill gesture here." Bobby's comment dripped with sarcasm as he prepared his weapon and checked his vest. Mary had stalked back to her belongings and was still muttering and cursing under her breath as she completed putting together her equipment and fastening her vest. She was all energy and anger, and she was making Bobby uneasy. He quietly said to Marshall, "Can't you do something with her? She's going to shoot someone before we even get started."

Marshall watched his partner for a moment, then sighed and stood up. He rapidly walked over to Mary, tightly gripped her arm above the elbow and forced her to walk about fifteen feet away. She struggled the entire way, and when he let her go she turned on him and snapped, "Ow…that hurt! What the hell are you doing?!"

He was glaring right back and growled, "What's got your panties in a wad today?"

"What?!" she was looking at him like he had grown a new head, "what are you talking about?"

"You! You've been nothing but a pain in my ass today, Mary." He was gesturing and talking low so Dershowitz wouldn't hear them, "You're wound tight and bitchy and I'm not relishing the chance to go into a firefight with you when you're trigger happy…neither is Bobby."

"Well, who asked you to go?" she shot back, "You and your new best friend over there can just sit in the wagon and watch it on TV." She saw Marshall's eyes flash anger at her comment and realized she might have gone just a bit too far. Of course, this deflated her anger immediately. She knew Marshall's patience had worn off after her attempt to steal his clip, and the death grip he had on her arm a few minutes ago only served to comfirm his true irritation with her. She ran her fingers through her hair and blew out a breath, "Yeah, sorry, that was out of line." Mary had been working on letting him know how she felt instead of pushing him away and she concentrated on trying to be honest. Marshall relaxed too and noticed her effort.

Hands on her hips now, she flipped her hair back and looked up at him, "I've been looking forward to having the house to myself for three weeks now, and now that everyone's gone, my dipshit witness has to get himself into yet another criminal mess and here I am, going on a bust that I don't want to go on. And dragging you with me. And why? Because we have to babysit Dershowitz and make sure he doesn't shoot that frickin' idiot, Danny." She shook her head in exasperation and finished, "maybe I'll just shoot him and then we can all go home early. Dammit, Marshall, that stupid bastard has busted my balls for the last four months and we still can't catch him in the act. He better not come out of this one clean!" She was hoping he understood her frustration.

Marshall put his hand on her shoulder in commiseration, "I can't imagine he would. Just by being in the house it'll be a third violation and out he goes." He smiled wryly as he caught her gaze, "Try not to shoot him…or anyone else, please. Eleanor will make you fill out the long forms." She smiled back, amused with his tactic. He patted her shoulder again and they headed back to Bobby.

Dershowitz had to admit, she looked calmer and he relaxed. "Better?" he asked, but she still glared in his direction and grunted.

Marshall turned to him and stated, "Yeah…I convinced her not to shoot me in the ass." and gave Bobby a discreet thumbs up.

"I wouldn't waste a bullet on your ass, Marshall," she tossed over her shoulder as she walked toward the van, "you'd still be able to talk."

The two men had to laugh at that one. The team assembled in front of the van and piled in for transport.

-----------------------------

"Just be careful who you shoot," Mary instructed to Bobby as she adjusted her armor and duty belt, "it seems to disturb the ME when dead bodies go missing from the morgue."

Dershowitz shot her a dirty look and said, "Can you at least give me some heads up on who you want here?"

Mary and Marshall shared a look. Bobby marveled at the silent communication…he swore they could have whole conversations in there.

"Fine," snapped Mary, "short, ugly douchebag with spiky blonde hair. He's a real slippery asshole so watch your back."

"Well," chuckled Bobby in return, "you seem really fond of him! Sure you don't want me to shoot him?"

"She's sweet on him…doesn't want anyone to know her true feelings," whispered Marshall loudly to Dershowitz, "you know how she is."

"Shut your hole, Marshall, or I'll change my mind about that bullet." Mary snarked back, "Just to see if my gun works."

Dershowitz just knew this night would end poorly, having Mary around was like living in a trailer park in tornado alley. It was only a matter of time before the destruction began. At least Marshall was here to clean up after her, a role the man seemed to fill comfortably…even happily. Ever since Mary had been shot, he occasionally wondered if there was more there than just a partnership… "_Nah,_" he thought, "_it would be a wild ride but the maintenance fees would be too high._"

The eight man team waited for the go signal, eyeing the target about quarter mile away. An old territory home, it sat on about ten acres of scrub and pines. There was a dilapidated barn behind the house. Their cover was poor as they approached the house, but it was a new moon and there weren't any streetlights for miles.

It was a basic meth lab bust. The traffic had become too heavy not to get noticed, and the Mayor was being particularly proactive with shutting these types of operations down. They expected to find three or four tweakers inside, maybe a cook or two and, if they were lucky, some customers to harass.

Mary and Marshall were looking for Danny Peters (formerly Danny Harris), a low-level drug runner and cook who had witnessed a buy-gone-bad about six months ago in Philly. He had agreed to testify against his former supplier for a place in WITSEC, but was having a very hard time leaving his former life behind or obeying the rules. He was, as Mary accurately described him, a slippery asshole who tried to weasel out of every regulation. Mary was tired of pulling his ass out of the fire and was just waiting for him to screw up so she could kick him out of the program. He had alerted yesterday when the Albuquerque PD ran his prints from a scene they had processed. Stan and headquarters put the Marshals into the plan for raiding this house in hopes of keeping Danny out of the New Mexico investigation and sending him back to Philly to be processed out. They would be more than happy to be rid of him.

Mary, Marshall and Bobby headed around to the barn in order to make sure there were no suspects hiding out in there, and planned to enter the house from the back as the rest of the team went in from the front. Satisfied the barn was clear, they quietly radioed to the front team that all was ready. The two Marshals shared another look, and Bobby suddenly felt like he was intruding on something personal. "_That's just weird, man._" He noted mentally as the countdown began.

The house was suddenly alive with shouts, shots and light as the officers mounted their attack from front and back entrances. Out of the corner of her eye, Mary saw blonde, spiky hair dart out the back door and turned to see Dershowitz on his heels. "Marshall, I'm out the back!" she yelled over to her partner and took off after her witness and Bobby. "_If he shoots him, I'm going to personally break both his arms…after I kiss him in gratitude._" she plotted against the detective. She saw motion in the doorway of the barn and quickly slunk in that direction. As she was nearing the opening, a shot rang out and her blood ran cold. She suddenly hoped Dershowitz had shot her witness because the other option was not acceptable. Her fears were realized as she snuck into the barn and allowed her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Bobby was lying awkwardly against a rusted out tractor, holding his thigh and staring at Danny, looking surprised. "_Yep,_" agreed Mary silently, "_you certainly don't expect it_." His gun was just out of reach on the floor, and she assumed he must have lost hold of it as the shot brought him down. "_Dammit…dammit!"_ she cursed to herself. Her heart was pounding and she could feel the sweat dripping down the inside of her vest. Danny didn't notice her presence as he was busy holding a gun on Dershowitz and mocking him.

"Uh oh, po-leece man," sneered Danny, "looks like you fell down and went boom!" He giggled and Mary realized he was higher than a kite. That would make him stupid, but unpredictable. Danny continued, "I'm glad you could come to the party! Too bad you weren't invited." he raised the gun menacingly.

Dershowitz was pissed. Not only did he lose the guy in the dark and end up with a bullet in his thigh…which **hurt**…but he had lost his weapon. His wrist had hit a pipe on the tractor as he fell and knocked it right out of his hand. He was weighing his options, ignoring the taunts from the blonde man, when he noticed the shadow detach itself from the equipment behind his shooter. He grinned.

Danny didn't notice Mary's approach, but he did quickly notice the barrel of the gun pressed into the back of his head. "Well, well, well," sang Mary, "guess who else you forgot to invite, Danny?" Her voice and visage were icy cold, eyes boring holes in the back of her captive's head. Bobby decided that Mary could be a very scary woman. She shoved the gun against his head again, "Drop it…now."

"M…Mary?" squeaked Danny as he dropped his weapon, "what are you doing here?"

"Do you honestly think I didn't know where you were every minute of every day, Scumbag? I've just been waiting for you to screw up…and lookit what we have here…a screw up." She eyed Dershowitz as he retrieved his gun. He was keeping pressure on his wound and it didn't seem to be bleeding horribly…thank god.

"Not only did you screw up, you waste of DNA, you shot my friend. What do you think we should do about that, hmm?" She had moved around to the side and now had her gun setting on his temple. He could see her now and actually pissed his pants a little…he was sure she was going to kill him. She stared at him silently.

Bobby, apparently, wasn't quite sure what Mary would do either because he said warily, "Mary…?"

"You got him, D?" she asked, wanting to know if Dershowitz now had Danny covered with his retrieved gun. "Yep." he replied, a bit relieved that Mary was not going to plug the guy in front of him.

Mary pulled out her cuffs with one hand while keeping her gun on Danny. She then kicked his legs out from under him as she holstered her weapon, kicked him in the groin as he fell to the floor and then knelt on his back as she cuffed him. Bobby's eyebrows shot up. "Don't you think that was a bit excessive, Inspector?" he asked.

"Two taps to the skull would've been excessive, Detective," she dryly replied, "**this **was absolutely deserved." She looked up at Dershowitz and grinned, then sobered quickly as she registered pain on his face. "You gonna die?" she asked directly.

He saw genuine concern on her face and felt a little flattered. "I'm not that easy to kill." he groaned. "Pity." said Mary facetiously as she climbed off Danny…managing to knee him in the head and step on his leg in the process, on purpose. "Let's get you out of here, Bobby."

As if on cue, Marshall appeared in the doorway, weapon drawn and flicked on a weak light. Quickly assessing the scene, he whined, "You guys had all the fun already!" Looking at the detective, "You o.k. Dershowitz?"

"I'll live to see another, but your partner's witness may file a police brutality complaint." He was actually secretly enjoying Mary's subtle abuse of the man lying on the floor.

Marshall smiled and said, "People who don't exist don't file complaints." Bobby's eyes widened in surprise and understanding. "_Their world is a mixed up and scary place_" he decided thoughtfully, moving them slightly further into his "respected but dangerous" category. Marshall helped him fashion a makeshift dressing, then pulled him up and slung Bobby's arm over his shoulder. He looked at Mary hauling Danny to his feet and smiled wider, "All right! I won yet another bet." he announced with glee.

Mary shot him a dark look and sneered, "Yeah, yeah…laugh it up, asshole." She never had any luck in winning bets with Marshall. Too bad she couldn't resist them.

"What bet?" asked Bobby.

"We always bet as to when a witness will screw up and get kicked out of the program," explained Marshall, "Either less than six months or after. I picked less than this time." He and Bobby slowly followed Mary out of the barn. "The loser has to do all the paperwork involved in processing the fellow out. It's a lot of paper work…might take all night." He was baiting Mary.

She "accidentally" slammed Danny into the wall as she was exiting the barn.

Marshall laughed and whispered to Dershowitz, "She really hates paperwork."

Dershowitz shuddered but smiled, "_Marshall's as crazy as she is!_" he silently realized. He was glad they were on his side.

They walked out of the barn and into the night.

***** Thanks for reading! I've got some more chapters to add, so keep checking back. I love reviews! *****


	9. Chapter 9

***** O.k...we're off on another adventure and it's a wild ride. WARNING: I really mess with Mary in the next few chapters, but it's for a purpose. Don't worry, she's tough and she can take it! I think we're spoiler free. Enjoy! *****

***** A little more than a week after the raid with Bobby D *****

**______________________________________________________**

**Wednesday 5:20 pm**

It was a gorgeous, spring day…the first really warm day this year. Mary had a sudden need to spend some time outside and decided to endeavor a run in her favorite park. Just some time to decompress and take a soul breath. Since Jinx was still in New York for her acting internship and Peter and Brandi were on their vacation for another 2 weeks, she was suddenly really looking forward to an evening run followed by a hot shower and then some relaxation time next to the pool…all by herself. Now that she had rid herself of her problem witness, her brain needed a vacation and here was finally some time to get it. "_I'm sure_," she thought wryly, "_the universe will once again conspire against me and screw this up…ah well_."

She began to gather her things and Marshall looked up to say, "Headed out?"

"Yup…gonna go commune with nature for a while." She replied while trying to remember if she had some running clothes in her locker. Seems she left some there a while ago, and she always had a spare pair of running shoes at work. She looked at Marshall and grinned, "You should spend some time in the sun, pale face…I bet you'd glow in the dark naked."

"Oh," he snidely retorted, "you'd just love to know what I do in the dark, naked, wouldn't you?" He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

She laughed and snorted out, "Oh my god, you are such a slut!" "_Wow…Marshall…dark…naked._" Her libido perked up and she tried to beat it back into submission.

"Hey Mare," began Marshall as he turned to look at her, "we're good, right?" Even though he knew their relationship had been unstrained and easy since the amazing Salsa night about a month ago, he just wanted to hear it from her. He hadn't felt any withdrawl or awkwardness between them after their kiss, and he actually had noticed her touch him more since then. A hand on the arm here while explaining something, a hand on his back when coming up to walk beside him…just small gestures of closeness and affection that he focused on just enjoying. Other than that, she was just as sarcastic, antagonistic and nasty as usual. She never mentioned that night, other than relaying the g-rated version of the evening for Stan and Eleanor, and he never brought it up. They both knew what they knew and seemed comfortable with it.

She looked at him and cocked her head to the side, a small smile on her lips, "Yeah…we're good. Thanks." She headed toward the locker room and called back, "See ya tomorrow, geek. G'night Stan!"

Marshall threw an eraser at her and pegged her right in the back of the head. "Two points!" he cheered himself with hands in the air.

"Idiot!" she swore loudly.

-----------------------------------------

"God, it's beautiful out" she sighed as she walked to her car in the parking lot. She was pleased to find running clothes, clean even, in her locker and could head right to the park instead of having to detour home first. She had her face turned up into the sun and was startled by a honk behind her. She jumped, yelped and turned to glare at Marshall as he chuckled from his SUV.

He leaned out the window and catcalled her, "Hey baby…nice legs! Wanna Tango?" He just couldn't pull of lascivious well and she had to laugh.

"I can't tango with you, Pervis, because you cheat." She announced, crossing her arms over her chest with a knowing smile.

"**I** cheat?!" he replied, looking incredulous, "I believe you were the one doing a pole dance and using me as the pole." Just the brief thought of the encounter was making him uncomfortable enough to shift slightly in his seat and he smiled.

Mary had a brief flash of excitement flare in her belly and again berated her libido for it's misbehavior, "_Down girl!_" She pointed her finger at him, "Admit it, you're the weak one, you were a goner the minute you saw me in that dress." She challenged.

"_Oh yes…,_" he remembered, "_you were beautiful_." He said out loud instead, "Oh, I'm thinking my studly attire affected you more than you'll let on." He winked lewdly.

"Get out of here, you moron!" she laughed and smacked the side of his truck, "I'm sure a wild night of National Geographic shows await you."

He began to pull away, chuckling, then remembered something and stopped again. He stuck his head out the window and shouted back, "Hey! Did you take that box of books to Martin today?" One of her witnesses, Martin Swartz (nee Raggoli), was an avid book collector. He was unable to order books himself due to regs, so Mary would get lists from him and use her resources to order them a few at a time through various sources and have them sent to her. She would then take them to Martin every few months. One of those nice things Mary did that she didn't want other people to know about.

Mary smacked her forehead and swore, "Dammit!" It was just like Marshall to remember something that **she** was supposed to do for **her** witness. "Yeah, no," she yelled back, "I'll take it over after I run." She waved as she got into her car. "_No problem…just a small detour in my night of relaxation._" She assured herself.

**Wednesday 7:15 pm**

Her run was perfect. She felt strong and fluid, not winded easily, but working hard at the end as she ran the last quarter mile at nearly a sprint. The sweat running down her back and glistening on her arms made her feel alive and accomplished. She spent about fifteen minutes cooling down and stretching and just enjoying the sunset in the quiet park. This was one of the places where she could truly relax for some reason. It just quieted her mind and she didn't try to figure it out, instead allowing herself to enjoy the sensation. There were no traffic sounds, just the occasional chatter or slap of feet on the pavement from others out in the park; but mainly stillness. Words from a song slipped unbidden into her mind "…_enjoy the silence…_". There was very little silence in her life.

She slid back into her car too soon and pulled out of the park, just barely remembering to get that box of books to Martin yet again. "Crap…" she muttered, "I'd forget my head if it wasn't screwed on some days." "_Only forty five minutes 'til a nice, hot shower…_" she recited a mantra in her head.

Martin didn't like people to park in his driveway or on the street in front of his house. He had a few quirks…like a thousand…and his yard, driveway and street front were always immaculate. She deferred to his requests as he was actually one of the few witnesses that never caused her aggravation, and parked about a block away. She locked her weapon and badge in the small box under her seat, got out and muscled the box of books from the trunk. Shoving the trunk closed with her elbow and hip, she locked the car and headed up to Martin's door. She almost knocked before remembering that Martin didn't like people knocking on his door either, and rang the bell.

It took him a few minutes to come to the door and he opened it right away, peeking out at her. She barely had time to register the fact that Martin never opened the door, he always unlocked it and let her open it, before the box of books was grabbed and yanked inside the house and her along with it. Something hit her on the right side of her face hard enough to send her sprawling and next thing she knew she was being pinned to the floor by a boot pressed into the back of her neck. Her vision was reeling from the blow and she could only see the wall of Martin's living room. She could hear him begging and crying, "Please leave her alone! She's my friend! She doesn't know anything!...Please!" She tried to wiggle out from under the boot and received three vicious kicks in the right hip and thigh by another pair of boots, causing her to yell out and lie still. The pressure on the back of her neck increased threateningly.

"_Holy shit, this is bad,_" she thought frantically, "_there's at least two of them and I'm completely unarmed._" She then heard a man's odd laugh from the other side of the room… "_scratch that…at least three of them_"… and he said, "Martin, Martin, Martin…tsk, tsk. It's a shame that your friend came to see you now, just when we were going to have to ask you the hard questions." She could hear Martin whimpering as if he was being hurt. The man continued, his voice growing nearer to her and she tensed, "Since you seem to care so much for your friend, I think we may need to use that to our advantage." Three more kicks came from the right, one to her hip again then two to her ribs. She gasped in pain and grew slightly dizzy as she had the breath knocked out of her. Concentrating on breathing again and trying to plan some sort of defense, she again heard Martin beg, "I don't have what you want!! I don't…just leave her alone!" He was crying now. She tried to help him.

"Martin," she said calmly between not so calm breaths, "just give them what they want. Just do what they say. Don't worry about me…I'm nobody." She hoped Martin would not reveal her identity…the bad guys just loved to kill cops. Since she didn't have her shield or weapon on her, she was just another person. The man laughed again and leaned down to speak into her ear…she couldn't see him. He spoke softly and she realized she was now terrified. It dawned on her that these were professionals…men who knew who Martin was and knew how to extract information in very creative and usually painful ways. His words were chilling and she struggled with the fact that she was probably going to die tonight. "_Oh no,_" she thought involuntarily, "_who will take care of Marshall?_"

"Martin has something we want…he just can't remember what it is. Fortunately, we now have something Martin wants. We're going to find out just how hard it is for Martin to remember tonight…but don't worry, my love, you won't remember anything." She felt a hard object jab into the side of her neck and then there was electrifying pain. The words of that song played again and faded away with her consciousness… "_enjoy the silence_…".

***** Mary's in some deep shit! Stay tuned and please review! *****


	10. Chapter 10

***** Poor Marshall...here we go again! No spoilers, but there is impending angst. *****

**----------------------------**

**Thursday 3:50 am**

Marshall couldn't believe he was still sitting here in this damn chair staring at this damn computer screen. Stan had called him two hours ago with the alert and he knew it was going to be a real cluster from the get go. Some will say, and he's often lumped into that some, that leopards can change their spots and become better leopards. Yeah…sometimes they change their spots and become meaner and stupider leopards. Case in point, the idiot he was now finally clearing for yet another transfer because the bastard couldn't keep it in his pants, or at least couldn't keep quiet when it was out of his pants. "Swell idea, Stewart, beat up a whore and then parade her through the street yelling about it" he sneered aloud. It was a turf war with the Albuquerque PD first, then another pissing contest with headquarters about who would do the transfer. He and Stan held their ground, however, and Marshall didn't have to call Mary to wake her up for a long and torturous road trip…Mary _really_ disliked Stewart. Might've been the time Stewart grabbed her ass…Marshall had to chuckle involuntarily remembering that episode. Poor Stewart. Houston WITSEC was headed their way in the morning. Meanwhile, Stewart got to sober up in solitary, ranting to no one in particular. He could tell Stan was getting ready to head on out and quickly finished typing the last line in his report and filed it.

His phone rang and he automatically checked the caller ID. Mary's home number. "_What the…?_" he thought, "_whose calling from Mary's house?_" If it had been his partner, she'd surely call from her cell and weren't Brandi and Peter on a cruise and Jinx in New York? He answered with curiosity, "Marshall here."

Silence. He could hear the open line, but no one spoke. "Hello?...Mary?" The tendrils of unease began to creep into his gut.

"Shit…" he heard softly uttered. A loud clatter filled his ear as the phone was obviously dropped on the other end. This was followed by another period of silence.

"Mare? Is that you?" he had raised his voice, trying to summon whoever had spoken back to the phone. The tendrils had now taken on the characteristics of a giant squid. For whatever reason, that simple and quiet epitaph followed by the dropped phone was causing his blood to run icy in his veins. Call it cop sense, psychic connection…whatever you want, but Marshall was sure there was something very wrong at Mary's house.

Stan had come out of his office and he immediately noticed Marshall's tense stance and worried expression. Marshall looked at him and he stayed rooted to the spot. "What's wrong?" Stan asked.

Marshall then heard a dial tone as the connection was lost and he was grabbing his weapon and talking to Stan at the same time in sharp tones. "That was Mary's home number. Something's not right and I have a bad feeling. Let's go." Stan noted the single mindedness of Marshall's actions and his own gut tightened with worry. "I'm with you." Both men were trying not to think about the last time Mary was in trouble and they were too far away to help.

They had just gotten into the SUV, Stan driving so Marshall could try to get in touch with Mary, when Marshall's phone rang again from Mary's house number. Marshall put it on speaker, "Mary…is that you? What's going on?" he quickly said into the device.

Again the deafening silence, then followed by a soft "Marshall?" It was his partner's voice, but not like he had ever heard it before, almost ethereal.

"Mary, it's me." He said, sensing she needed this confirmed. "What's wrong? What are you doing?" He was gritting his teeth as he was trying to get some conversation going in his desperate need to gather information. Her response was so slow, but finally she spoke again.

"Marshall…I think…I think there's…" her voice retained that odd detached and flat tone and he could hear her labored breaths, "…I think something really…bad happened."

"What happened, Mary? Are you hurt?" His eyes pleaded with Stan to go faster.

"…um…I don't know…yes?" was her only answer. Then the silence continued.

The meanings behind her answer where chasing themselves around Marshall's head and were nearly making him insane. Did she mean she didn't know what happened? Or did she not know if she was hurt? Or both? What could've happened?

"Mary, is there anyone there with you?" He asked this to see if she was trying to avoid saying anything due to another person's presence in her house.

"I think…wait…I don't know…" then he could hear her start to breathe more heavily and she said, "I'm gonna be sick." and hung up the phone again.

"No! Don't hang up! Mary!...God dammit!" Marshall yelled at the phone. He looked at Stan and said, "What in the hell is going on, Stan?! She did not sound normal to me…did that sound normal to you?"

"Hell no, it didn't sound normal…it barely sounded like Mary. And it didn't sound like she was drunk…something else is going on." Stan was now feeling the same dread as Marshall. "Listen, Marshall, when we get there, we don't know what kind of situation we're walking in on. There could be someone there with her…or more than one someones. We've got to keep our heads…don't go rushing in. I need you to be you." He was trying to prep Marshall in a way that would make him think rationally and like the U.S. Marshal he was. Stan may be mostly clueless most of the time, but he knew the relationship between Mary and Marshall had developed into something deeper over the last six months. As long as the partnership was strong and the witnesses were safe, he was willing to look the other way, but if Marshall couldn't keep his head when Mary was in a bad situation…well, he hoped he wouldn't have to think about the ramifications of that scenario.

Marshall was redialing the number and letting it ring until it went to the machine, then he'd hang up and dial again. "_I can't do this again_" he uttered over and over in his head "_I can't watch her die again…I can't lose her again…why is this happening?_" Stan was sensing his panic and said, "Marshall! Get a grip…she's talking, breathing and dialing the phone. Just keep it there for right now, o.k.?" He saw Marshall make a concerted effort to sit up and relax his shoulders. The tall man checked his weapon to make sure it was operational as they approached Mary's street.

**Thursday 3:30-4:00 am**

Beige. Scratchy. Too close. Cold.

Those were the thoughts that penetrated Mary's brain first as she opened her eyes. Her eyes were seeing things, but they didn't seem to be connected to her brain yet. She blinked and opened them again to realize her face was resting on the carpeted floor, and one eye didn't seem to be functioning quite right…blurry. She turned her head slighty, eliciting a wave of dizziness that caused her eyes to water, and tried to focus on the place she was in. It was dark, but there was enough ambient light to see what was close.

Couch. Table. Plant. Hand.

The objects were familiar, this place was familiar. "_Who's hand is that_?" she thought sluggishly. It was just resting there in front of her face and it looked familiar too, except for the blood…it was caked in blood. Testing a new theory in her awakening consciousness, Mary concentrated on the fingers of that hand. Sure enough, they wiggled. "_Oh_," she thought with surprise, "_that's my hand_." With that revelation, she slowly began to become aware of the orientation of the rest of her body. She was lying on the floor, face down, in…her living room. The place had come to her. Unfortunately, with the dawning awareness of self, came the sensations traveling from all parts of her prone body. "Oh my god..." was all she could mutter to the chorus of pain. She felt as though every joint had been twisted and realized that every breath was painful. She also knew she was going to have to move. As her mind cleared slightly, the one insistent instruction it was giving her was "Get. Help."

She attempted to lift her head first and received an unpleasant shot of pain that traveled from the back of her skull into the right side of her face and the throbbing began. Her neck was stiff and she was briefly nauseous. Once establishing the fact that this new pain was not getting worse after a few minutes, she set about trying to get the rest of her body moving. She didn't know why she was in pain, or why she was on the floor. In fact, she didn't know why she was at her house. "_I was out for a run_…." She was trying to think of what had happened and couldn't think of anything past that. The hand that had been claimed as hers was now under her right shoulder and pushing her up, the left hand was retrieved from under her chest and when placed on the floor, radiated such a shocking and sharp pain that she gasped and rolled back onto her right side. Hundreds of daggers stabbed at her as her body protested the sudden, overall motion. She had to just lie there for a minute to let the nausea and red dots in front of her eyes fade. "_Well, I won't do that again._" she concluded, "_left hand…not happy_." From this position, she spotted the house phone lying on the coffee table about eight feet away. She had a target, time to acquire it.

She managed to get to her right hand and knees this time, nausea less as the overall pain was becoming familiar and controllable. There was no way she was going to attempt to stand up yet and she began to crawl towards the phone like a three legged dog. She had to stop and rest twice to catch her breath…which hurt because her ribs complained…but managed to get to the table and then tried to sit on her right hip to prop herself up. She ended up lying on the floor again due to the jackhammers digging into her hip. "_All right…add the right hip to the DL_." she mentally tallied. "I'm running out of working parts." she muttered hoarsely, also realizing her throat felt thick and bruised. "_My god…what happened_?" she wondered, "_did I get in an accident? A fight?_" she couldn't get her mushy, bruised brain to formulate an answer. Now sitting on her left hip, she fumbled the phone with her right hand…all that blood distracted her again. It coated her hand and up to the middle of her forearm where it then became more splotchy and diffuse. It looked dried, but she didn't see any wounds. "_Odd_." she thought distractedly. In fact, it was the only limb that didn't seem to hurt.

She dialed Marshall's number without conscious thought and heard him answer, "Marshall here." The wave of relief that slammed into her at the sound of his voice actually caused her to partially collapse back towards the floor. She said, "Shit." and dropped the phone. "_No, No, No_" yelled her brain as the phone skittered across the coffee table and dropped onto the carpet on the other side. She eyed it with malice. "_Come on, Marshal Shannon,_" she mentally berated herself, "_quit being a pussy and get that phone._" She hefted herself back to her hands and knees and crawled around the table slowly. As she grabbed the phone again, she accidentally hit the "end" button. She whimpered.

"_O.k, Mary_" she gathered her thoughts, "_you have got to call Marshall and you have got to get up. Just get to the bathroom because you're going to throw up in about five minutes._" She did manage to leverage herself into a stooped and painful standing position with much exertion and bull headed determination. Using the back of the couch, she began to limp to the bathroom after hitting the redial on the phone. At least the right leg seemed to work as a whole though her hip throbbed mercilessly.

"Mary, is that you? What's going on?" came Marshall's voice through the phone.

She talked haltingly as she was creeping towards the bathroom…with only about twelve feet to go. "Marshall? I…think…something really…bad happened." she summed it up. She had to negotiate from using the couch to using the wall which was a difficult two feet without support. Her stomach was beginning to roil and she was sweating. She vaguely noted she was still in her running shorts and t-shirt, but her shoes and socks were gone. "_Oh damn_," she thought, still very removed from her body, "_I've got blood all over my feet…and my legs…and my shirt and shorts are soaked with it…what the hell?_" Mary didn't think all that blood could possibly be hers…she'd didn't feel as though she was bleeding. "_How does bleeding feel?_" she also wondered. Marshall was talking to her again.

"…happened? Are you hurt?" he sounded panicky.

She still didn't know what happened, but she was definitely hurt. "I…don't know…yes?" She replied, trying to answer all his questions. The bathroom was closer and she was determined not to puke on the carpet.

"…anyone there with you?" the damn man was asking her more questions. Didn't he know she just wanted him to get his ass over here?! Suddenly, she had a thought of many people in a room…a man laughing…and then it was gone. "_Are they here?_" she thought, panicked. "I…wait…I don't know." she again replied before saying "I'm gonna be sick," as she reached her destination. She hung up the phone and dropped it as she needed her one good hand to maneuver herself into the bathroom.

Stumbling into the room, she dropped to her knees in front of the toilet, pitched over and hit the side of the bathtub and slid onto the floor again. Feeling the bile rise in the back of her throat, desperation allowed her to quickly right herself and be sick into the toilet. There was nothing much in her stomach, but as she caught her breath and spit a few times, she noticed blood in the toilet. She wiped at her mouth with a towel and there was now a large smear of blood marring the cloth. "_My god…how many leaks have I sprung?_" she pondered. Her entire body was viciously protesting the vomiting and she was starting to think she was going to pass out. "How undignified," she snorted, "passed out in the crapper." Turning to crawl back to the phone, she slipped and fell onto her left hand and the veil of blackness began to descend, but she did manage to pass out at least half way out of the crapper.

***** Know why I like Mary so much? She's bad ass and resourceful...doesn't freak out in a crisis. Hang on Mary...Marshall is coming! Keep reading...thanks for reviews! *****


	11. Chapter 11

***** The calvalry arrives, but the damage is done. No spoilers...Eleanor gets to play too! *****

**Thursday 4:15 am**

The SUV halted in front of Mary's house and the men inside were greeted by a strange and disturbing sight. Mary's car was parked on the front lawn, the mailbox resting on the hood. The driver's side door was open. Stan and Marshall jumped out of the SUV, weapons drawn and listened. Silence. There was no movement in the car, near the house, or anywhere on the street. They also noted that Mary's front door was wide open. Marshall felt like he was going to come out of his skin and Stan wasn't feeling any better. "What the hell is going on, Stan?" Marshall spoke quietly. Stan just shook his head.

They approached the car cautiously, both worried about what they may find. Marshall went around to the driver's side and froze. The car was empty, but there was blood. Blood on the outside handle, the inside handle…blood on the seat, the steering wheel…and a bloody handprint on the driver's side window. A handprint about Mary's size. He was trying not to hyperventilate at this point as his mind raced with pictures of Mary bleeding in the car. Why was there so much blood? There was no damage to the car at all other than the dent from the mailbox. Stan had seen it too and said, "Let's get into that house."

They approached the front door at a crouch. There was no noise from inside the house and it was dark. There were more blood smears on the doorframe and door, and the keys were hanging from the lock of the opened door. Marshall did not want to go into this house, every fiber of his being was screaming at him to not go in. If Mary was dead, he truly felt he would not last through this night.

Stan went in first and saw a spot where Mary must have lain on the floor. There was a large area of blood there. He announced, "Clear!" and Marshall followed him in and moved to the kitchen, again saying "Clear!" when finding nothing in that small room and the adjoining laundry room. Stan headed into Jinx's bedroom to assess it and Marshall headed towards the hallway and back bedrooms. As Stan said, "Clear!" in Jinx's bedroom, Marshall spotted her on the floor, halfway out of the bathroom. If there hadn't been a nightlite in the bathroom, he may have tripped over her. "Stan, I've got her…she's down." He said flatly as his brain tried to disconnect. They had to clear the last two bedrooms before he could assess her. "Clear!", "Clear!" were the last two calls before both men immediately returned to the hallway. Stan flipped on the hallway light and Marshall's stomach nearly rebelled. She was a bloody mess…just awful. Marshall could not see any part of her that did not have some trace of blood, and many parts were covered with it. Her face was pressed into the floor and her hair obscuring most of her features…even some of her hair was bloody.

Marshall holstered his weapon and dropped to the floor next to Mary to feel for a pulse. It was strong and she was breathing steadily. He nearly sobbed in relief. "She's alive, just out." He said to Stan. He didn't want to touch her, not knowing what injuries she had, but needed to see where she was bleeding from. As he began to look over her legs and arms, he was startled to realize she had no obvious wounds other than the extensive bruising he was finding disturbing. "_Where was all this blood coming from?_" he wondered. He lifted up the blood soaked shirt to check her back and again found no wounds that were bleeding other than some minor abrasions. An uneasy thought wiggled into his head. "Stan," he said slowly, "I don't think this is all her blood. I don't see anything to bleed from and some of it is old…dried." Marshall was calling Mary's name softly as he inspected her head and neck for wounds. Her stillness made his skin crawl and reminded him too much of watching her in that hospital bed while she was on a ventilator. Stan, registering Marshall's words, aborted his attempt to dial 911.

"Wait a minute, if it's not hers, whose is it?" Stan replied. Too many scenarios entered his mind, and he didn't feel like explaining any of them to law enforcement. "Marshall, unless we see that she's in critical condition here and needing immediate medical attention, I think we may want to keep the authorities out of this." he said wisely. They knew bringing her to an emergency room in this assaulted state would require the nurses and doctors to alert the police.

"I agree." Marshall nodded, "Let's see if we can wake her up and check her out here and we can figure out what to do then. Maybe she'll know what happened. Help me roll her over, I don't want to hurt her…anymore than she already is."

The two men gently rolled Mary onto her back, but did so by rolling her over her right hip. This caused her eyes to fly open and gasp as the pain radiated outward through her body. "My hip…my hip!" she panted, trying to push their hands away with her good arm. Relief swelled through Stan and Marshall as she woke up and began ineffectively pushing at their hands with her right arm. They settled her softly onto her back and tried to get her to focus on them.

Marshall nearly cried…right there. She was just such a mess that he had no words, and didn't even know where to touch her that wouldn't be painful. His rage and sorrow stuck in his chest, nowhere to go, no one to take it out on. He had once said that our animal instincts make us want to savage those who hurt the ones we love…someone would pay for this…and pay dearly.

She had closed her eyes again as she wasn't being moved and seemed to be catching her breath. He settled on just getting her hair out of her face so she could see him if she opened her eyes again. "Mary…can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?" he cajoled her while brushing the hair back from her face. Once her face was uncovered, Marshall realized she'd only be able to open one eye…the right one was swollen shut and the side of her face was bruised and red. She had a nasty looking gash above that eye also. He concluded that the blood on her face and chest was likely from that wound, and it was no longer bleeding. Her nose, also, had been bloodied. It was hard to describe the collision of emotions that continued to assault him as he looked at his partner, the woman he loved, beaten and bloodied, on the ground in front of him. Wrath…fear…relief…pride. The last because this attack had not happened here, but she had made it back here and called him.

Stan sucked in a breath at the damage done to Mary's face and he pointed out her left hand to Marshall. It, too, was swollen, bruised and battered. Marshall would bet his grandfather's farm it was broken. Just to be sure the rest of the blood was not hers, he gently lifted her t-shirt to check her abdomen and ribs for any wounds. He found only more bruising, especially focused near her right hip and up onto her right ribs. Carefully pressing on her belly, Marshall made sure he didn't feel any signs of internal bleeding. Stan sat back on his haunches and ran both hands through his hair saying, "Jesus Christ! This is insane…who would do this…why? She's lucky she's still alive!"

"I'm not that easy to kill, Stan" whispered Mary, cracking open her good eye to look at her boss.

"That's my girl." said Marshall softly, his voice breaking slightly, as he went back to stroking her hair.

"Marshall, if you start crying, I swear to god I'll club you with my good hand." She warned, but it didn't have much venom to it. The men had been handling her so infinitely gently, and she could hear the intakes of breath and the muttered curses as they assessed the damage done. Those acts of kindness and compassion were breaking her heart. "_If he starts crying, I'll start crying, and then I'll be done._" she knew. Her voice was very hoarse and she decided she was thirsty.

"Do you boys think you can help a girl to the couch and buy me a drink?" she was trying for humor because the tension, anger and sadness in the room was becoming too draining.

"Do you think it's a good idea for you to move?" asked Stan.

"I got from over there to over here by myself earlier…I guess it's safe to go back over there with some help." she was trying for sarcastic…didn't know if she pulled it off. Her head was definitely clearing now.

"Hold on a sec, Mare," said Marshall as he quickly moved over to the couch. He knew she wouldn't want to get blood on the couch so he opened a blanket and laid it on the cushions with the other end over the back of the couch. Once she got over there, he could use that end to cover her. Her skin was cool to the touch and he realized she was probably freezing and shocky and didn't even know it.

He returned to her side and asked her how she wanted to make the transfer.

"If you try to handle me too much, it'll hurt too bad." she said, extending her right arm into the air, "Marshall, take this arm and help me stand up." Marshall was hesitant as he didn't want to aggravate her injuries, and the sight of her didn't make him too confident she'd be able to stand up, but he also knew better than to argue with her so he held her right hand and elbow and applied some tension so she could maneuver herself to her feet. She basically climbed up him to do it and he tried to be as helpful as possible without hurting her. She was quite dizzy and fighting the pain once she was up, and just leaned on him for a minute to get her head to stop swirling. "Wanna dance?" she whispered. He carefully held her close and kissed her on the nose and rested his forehead against hers. Not caring whether she got blood on him or what Stan thought about the exchange.

"O.k," she announced after a minute, "Stan, you get the left flank, Marshall, you stay on the right. Let's get there." Marshall was impressed. She managed to limp to the couch leaning fairly heavily on him, but not requiring much help from Stan. The effort, however, was overwhelming to her. By the time she sat down onto the cushions, her head was whirling, the overall pain was numbing and she had the cold sweats again. "I'm gonna say goodnight again for a bit, guys." she managed to warn them before slumping over into the cushions. Marshall tucked the blanket around her, checked her pulse, and reassured she had just passed out again turned to Stan to strategize. Stan was one step ahead.

"I'm going to get that car off the front lawn and call Eleanor." He saw Marshall's puzzled look and continued, "she knows a doc who's familiar with the bureau and makes house calls, unofficially. I really think we need a doctor to look at Mary. That gash may need stitches and I want to make sure everything else can get jerry rigged and stabilized for now." Marshall nodded his agreement. He was feeling fuzzy headed from all the emotions swirling around and shook his head as if to clear it. He needed to focus now that he knew Mary was all right…as such.

"She's still in her running clothes from yesterday, which means her gun and badge should be in her lockbox under the seat…combo is 623. See if you can find her cell too. I have no idea where her shoes and socks could've gone." Marshall said. "I'll try to clean her up a bit, but she's going to need a shower to get all that blood off of her and I'm not comfortable letting her do that alone, nor am I going to take my life into my hands and offer to help." stated Marshall wisely, "Eleanor can help her with that if you ask her to come over here."

"She will." said Stan matter-of-factly. He was dialing the phone and walked to the front door as Eleanor answered. "Eleanor. It's Stan. Hey, hon, I need to ask you a really big favor…." His voiced faded as he left the house. Marshall raised one eyebrow at the retreating man…"_hon_?"

He headed into the bathroom to grab some towels and washcloths, noting the blood smears on the tub, toilet and towel on the floor. "_God…"_ he thought, shaking his head with anger. He wet a few washcloths with warm water and went out to the living room. Taking advantage of Mary's unconscious state, he positioned and elevated the injured left hand on a pillow and applied a bag of frozen peas to it. He then set about cleaning the gash on her forehead and getting some of the dried blood off of her face, hand and neck. He belatedly realized he was looking at ligature marks on her neck and had to sit on the table next to the couch in order to calm down. He knew, without a doubt or thought of human decency, that if the person responsible for this were standing in front of him, he would kill them as they stood there. He rested his head in his hand and concentrated on breathing for a bit.

"I'm sorry." whispered Mary, watching him quietly. She so badly wanted to wipe the pain off his face.

Marshall looked up at her, confused, "What?...what would you possibly be sorry about?"

"For…mangling you in yet another Mary Shannon train wreck," she swallowed, "God, Marshall, I don't want to see you hurting again. This isn't fair to you!" Her defenses were down and she wasn't filtering her thoughts.

She watched as he scooted the table nearer to her so he could lean over and look at her closely. "Now, you listen to me," he began sternly, "I'm going to ask you a question and you are going to give me an honest answer, o.k?" He waited for her agreement. She nodded, focused on him. "If it were me lying on that couch, beaten and bloody, where would you be?" he asked.

She looked away from him and sighed, then met his eyes again and said, "Sitting right where you are now."

He continued, "And would you rather be doing anything else or be anywhere else?"

She closed her eyes and whispered, "No."

"You know," he sat back and regarded her, "we talked about this, remember? Talked about you trying to keep me out and pushing me away. Wild horses couldn't pull me away right now, Mare, but you're thinking about keeping me out…I can tell." He sat on the floor in front of the couch and set his head next to hers so he could whisper in her ear, "Don't protect me Mary…don't keep me out. Let me help you...Let me in." He was nearly pleading, and she felt a tear run down her cheek. He wiped it away with a finger.

"O.k." she promised, almost too low to hear. They sat like that for a while, each just being comforted by the presence of the other.

Stan reappeared with Eleanor soon after that. The older woman was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt…a definite departure from her office attire. She came around the couch and swore when she saw Mary, "Son of a bitch!" Marshall raised his eyebrows and stared at her…really a departure from the prim and proper lady he saw everyday at work. Mary opened her eye and squinted at Eleanor…looked at Marshall and then said, "Damn, this night just gets weirder everytime I open my eyes." Everyone chuckled a bit at that, diffusing some of the stress and worry. Eleanor went into the kitchen berating Stan and Marshall as she went through Mary's cabinets, "Didn't either of you think to get her some water or something to eat?" She brought over some water and some Advil and asked Marshall to find some crackers or something. She sat on the table next to the couch and gave instructions. "Mary, I'm going to get you to drink some water, take these Advil and eat a few crackers. Then I'm going to help you shower. We need to get you cleaned up so Dr. Rekha can check you out and see what needs attention. O.k?"

"I don't want to go to the hospital," Mary actually whined, "I was there long enough."

"No," assured Eleanor, "the doctor will come here."

Mary stared at Eleanor and then smiled crookedly, "Are you going to drown me? Now's your chance…I don't think I'd put up much of a fight."

Eleanor pretended to think about it and said, "Nah…what fun would that be, then?" She smiled back at Mary and a truce was declared for the night. Stan and Marshall just looked confused.

The water tasted like nectar and Mary realized how desperately thirsty she was. The crackers Marshall found went down without her stomach protesting, and she slowly felt less shaky and disoriented. Other than the persistent, throbbing pain in her right hip and left hand…and the impaired vision from only being able to open one eye…she was starting to feel human again...sore, but human. Stan and Marshall were quietly talking in the kitchen, and she distractedly wondered what they were talking about.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"It's five in the morning," said Eleanor, "why?"

"The last thing I remember is finishing my run, which was around seven last night," pondered Mary, "I can't remember anything from then on…that's a long time…" her voice trailed off.

The men came over to sit in the chairs across from her and Marshall asked, "Do you think you were attacked at the park?"

Mary looked thoughtful and tilted her head, "Nooooo….wait a minute….I had to take those books to Martin, remember? I know I was driving over there after running." Her gaze turned distant as she was trying to gather the swiftly returning memories. "I **did **go to Martin's. I remember grumbling about having to walk that extra block with those damn books because he won't let us park in front of his house."

Marshall was tense. He was hoping she would be able to shed some light on this disaster, but also hoping she wasn't going to remember obviously painful events. "Do you remember talking to Martin?" he tried to help her walk through it.

There was a long pause, and they could see her thinking hard, "I saw him…no…" her gaze snapped to Marshall suddenly and she tried to sit up higher, "Oh my god, Marshall, they were in Martin's house! They pulled me off the porch into the house…You have to get over there!" Eleanor was trying to keep her from hurting her hand and Marshall and Stan stood up and headed to the door. The men knew they had to respond to a threat to a witness before they could continue to question Mary.

"We'll be back, I promise." called Marshall as he and Stan took off.

**Thursday 5:30 am**

Eleanor had helped Mary get back to the bathroom in order to get her into the shower. The Marshal did surprisingly well, but heavily favored her right leg and was very short of breath by the time she was sitting on the toilet lid waiting for the water to heat up. "Shit!" she panted, "this is bullshit." The amount of blood caked onto the woman appalled Eleanor, but she was too professional to be squeamish about it. She convinced Mary to let her cut the running clothes and underwear off and put them in plastic bags in case they would be needed for evidence…considering they were soaked in someone else's blood.

Mary sat in the shower and let the hot water run over her…soothing and stinging at the same time. She tried and tried, but could not move her mind past being pulled into Martin's house…there just seemed to be a void after that. Eleanor sat on the toilet lid and talked to Mary through the curtain. They didn't talk about anything in particular…just a distraction. As Eleanor helped Mary wash her hair…the task proved too daunting for the one handed approach….she noted the extensive and ugly bruising on the young woman's body. Eleanor was sure she was going to need a stiff drink to soothe her anger later. She may not like Mary most of the time, but she respected the woman and felt oddly protective of her. It was that damn motherly instinct John always teased her about she supposed…she always liked the troublemakers.

Mary dressed in an oversized tank top (one of Marshall's actually…Mary wasn't sure how she had ended up with it, but never got around to giving it back) and maneuvered herself into her own bed, deciding to sleep until the doc got there. Eleanor helped place pillows to keep the more severely injured parts protected, but her hand, face and hip now hurt badly enough that she whimpered slightly and was distressed to feel tears in her eyes. Also, she had gotten a glimpse of herself in the mirror and was overwhelmed by the damage to her body. "_Why can't I remember anything_?" she was stressed about the complete lack of recall, but couldn't shake the sense that something very bad had happened and she had been there. She didn't hold out much hope for Martin. "_I hope Marshall and Stan are o.k._" she thought as she fell into an uneasy sleep.

The doctor awoke her about a half hour later. She asked Mary a lot of questions, and after about 10 minutes of examining her, made a call on her cell phone.

"Gary? It's Rehka. I'm going to be sending someone over with a blood sample. Can you run it for me quickly and quietly for tox with GHB?" she listened to the reply, "Thanks. Call me immediately with the results. I'll buy." The doc took a blood sample from Mary, tagged it and gave Eleanor instructions to take it to the lab immediately and give it to Gary. "I have a suspicion...we'll see what we get." she told her.

Mary and Dr. Rehka spent a good forty minutes talking while the doc sutured her head wound, dressed a few of the other minor wounds and splinted her hand after giving her a shot of Demerol. Eleanor returned and the two older women tucked Mary into her bed and went to the kitchen to wait for Marshall and Stan to return. Mary listened to the mumur of their voices as the sunlight began to filter into her room. The pain medicine was making her bones feel like liquid and she finally lapsed into a pain free and dreamless sleep.

***** For all my naysayers who don't think Mary could've gotten herself home...thank you for the reviews! It's helped me explain the phenomena better in the next chapter, I hope. I think you'll be satisfied. Keep reading because there's still more to go...gotta solve the mystery! I thought the M/M moments were good...just enough affection without it being sappy (I hope). What happened to Mary?? ... please review! *****


	12. Chapter 12

***** A visit to the crime scene and plan of action. No spoilers, gruesome discriptions of crime scenes and injuries...beware. *****

**Thursday 5:20 am**

Stan and Marshall parked a block away from Martin's house and regarded the silent, dark abode. On the way over, Marshall had asked Stan about the "hon" comment he had heard Stan utter over the phone to Eleanor. His boss gave him a dark look and challenged, "Do I ask about you and Mary?" Marshall, properly put in his place and understanding the subtle threat, smiled and said, "Point taken." The rest of the ride was spent determining a plan of attack for when they arrived at Martin's. Now they were both anticipating the various scenarios they may face inside the house. Nothing looked amiss.

"Mary may not be remembering correctly," began Stan, "he may just be tucked in bed sleeping like a baby."

"Well...let's go see what we see," said Marshall, "but keep it quiet."

The sky was just beginning to lighten in the east as the two men stealthily approached the house, watching for any movement in or around the property, and watching for nosy neighbors. As they climbed to the porch, they noticed the front door slightly ajar. All the curtains were pulled tightly over the windows. Game on, they knew, as they looked at each other and drew their weapons. They entered the house silently and the smell hit them. They had both witnessed enough crime scenes and traumas to know that smell…a particular mix of blood and urine that reeks of death. Marshall expected a bed scene, and knowing his duty to Mary's witness, shut the front door with his hip and flipped on the light switch with his sleeve.

It was hard for their brains to process what they were seeing. Stan felt as though he didn't know where to look first, and once his eyes landed on an object they immediately skipped to the next because of the unpleasantness. It took a few minutes for the whole tilted tableau to right itself his brain. Even in their line of work, having seen their fair share of dead bodies…freshly dead and mostly cured…both Stan and Marshall were shocked by the scene in front of them.

The blood was almost decorative…arcs and splatters covered walls and parts of the ceiling. The floor of the dining area was awash in a pool of blood that had begun to seep into the edges of the carpet, and a body lay in the middle of it. Part of that pool had been disturbed and smeared into a trail leading towards the door. There were smaller areas of blood stains on the carpet throughout the front room. The second body lay about eight feet from the first near the smeared blood trail and a large area of blood was soaked into the carpet surrounding it. Marshall noted quite a number of bloody boot prints leading to and from the dining area into the front room…and his eyes fell on three bloody barefoot prints starting at the end of the previously noticed smeared blood trail and leading to the front door. Mary's. He looked behind him at the front door and saw the hand prints on it and the jamb. She had escaped this…somehow. His gut twisted.

"Well, I think Martin is dead." understated Stan. "Yeah…." drawled Marshall, "dead all over the place." Martin's body was the one in the dining room, his throat had been cut so deeply that his head was barely attached to the rest of his body. That action was the likely cause of most of the artwork on the walls and ceiling in that room. The other man was unknown to them and Marshall gingerly picked his way over to the body, careful not to step in any evidence or leave any behind. They didn't necessarily want the cops to know they had been here. The man was wearing a ski mask and gloves and had a vicious looking stab wound to his throat. Judging by his contributions to the bloody scene, he had bled out while moving around. There were a number of blood pools leading up to where he lay. There was a wicked looking hunting knife on the ground at the very edge of the large pool of blood which Stan and Marshall assumed was the murder weapon for both victims. Knowing the unknown victim hadn't cut Martin's throat after being stabbed in the carotid himself...and knowing Martin didn't stab the unknown man after being nearly decapitated, they both concluded the same thing; Mary had been in that pool of blood and had stabbed the unknown man then left out the front door. They shared a look. Marshall pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, lightly stepped over to the knife and wiped the handle clean of prints. He then rolled it into the pool of blood and back out to where it had fallen. "_They won't pull her prints off of that_." he thought with satisfaction.

Marshall then moved back to the unknown man and a glint of metal caught his eye just under the edge of the man's jacket near his belt. He had an idea of what it was, and when he pulled back the jacket he hissed in a breath as he revealed a badge. FBI. "God dammit," whispered Marshall, as he noted the number and replaced the hem of the jacket, "not these frickin' guys again."

"This is bad, Marshall," stated Stan, "real bad. It looks like the feebs were the killers. I'm pretty sure there were more than just this guy, had to have been for Mary to look the way she does. They must not have known who she was or we'd looking at parts of her on the floor too, but when they find out she got away we're going to have some serious issues." He blew out a breath and made a decision. "Our best bet is to stay far away from this, even though we have a dead witness. We'll have to try to keep our prior knowledge of this to ourselves and let the PD notify us when they run the prints." He was looking around the scene for anymore obvious forensic evidence related to Mary. "They're going to find Mary's prints, no doubt, but hopefully the forensics will take a day or two. We have to delay her statement for as long as possible to give her time to get any memories back and for us to dig into this. If, by some miracle, they don't find any of her prints, it'll take at least a week for her DNA to hit their radar." Stan was smudging the hand prints on the door while wearing a pair of latex gloves he had pulled from his pocket. It left the print intact, but ruined any details on ridges and whorls that would identify the owner easily. He wasn't going to feed Mary to the CSI techs. Marshall quickly glanced around for Mary's shoes and socks, but didn't see them and wasn't going to chance leaving evidence behind to search for them. The objects wouldn't immediately appear significant, he hoped. They made sure they had not left any forensic clues behind, turned off the light and returned quietly to their car. Stan called in anonymously to 911 with a throwaway phone. They drove back to Mary's, both caught up in their own thoughts of how stupidly complicated and possibly dangerous this was going to get.

**Thursday 7:30 am**

Stan and Marshall walked into Mary's house wearily. They had not slept more than a few hours the night before, and after an emotionally draining night and stressful morning, were exhausted. Eleanor had made some coffee and she and Dr. Rekha were sitting at the kitchen table chatting quietly. She could tell by their faces that what they had found was not good. Stan silently cued Eleanor to not mention their morning errand, and she then made the introductions as they all sat around the table.

"So," asked Marshall, "is she going to be o.k.?"

"She is one tough woman," began the doc, "I've seen beatings half this bad end up in the ICU for a week." Her phone rang and she picked it up immediately, "What have you got, Gary?" Listening for a few moments, she then wrote down a few notes and hung up after thanking the caller. "Just what I thought." she murmured.

"Mary's hard to keep down," said Stan, "You probably already know that she doesn't remember how she got here. We discovered she had driven herself here from wherever this attack occurred. Looking the way she does and given her mental state...how is that possible?"

"First off," Dr. Rehka began, "she's a trained professional in survival situations, yes?" The men nodded. "Training and instinct do take over in many situations, and I'm sure we've all heard the stories of people doing amazing things when they are in life and death struggles. Eleanor gave me a basic rundown on her personality and she doesn't seem like one to panic when the chips are down."

"No," agreed Marshall, "she's been in similar situations before and kept her head." He was thinking about Spanky.

"Well, I think that may be the underlying cause of her ability to survive what she did and then escape in a way that brought her back here." Dr. Rehka sat up and filled in some of her background for the two men, "I don't know how much Eleanor told you about me, but I've been working with the federal government for twenty years. I specialize in combat and captive injuries. My subspecialty, though, is the study of injuries associated with traumatic interrogation techniques."

"You mean torture?" asked Stan, wondering why she was telling them this. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"They tell us not to call it that anymore...not politically correct." She obviously had little respect for "they", "but, yes, torture. I sent a sample of Miss Shannon's blood to the lab with a suspicion, and the results that just came in confirmed it. I think can give you an idea of what happened to Mary last night, but I can't hazard a guess on the why. That's your job."

Marshall was sure he didn't want to hear this...really didn't want to hear this. The words "Mary" and "torture" should not be used in the same conversation unless he was going to be stuck in a car with her for more than four hours. He looked up to see the people at the table staring at him. He knew they were waiting for him to make a decision as to whether the doc would relay the information she had for them. "We need to know what happened in order to find out who did this," he reluctantly said, and encouraged the doctor to continue, "please, let us know what you know."

She began, "There are two problems with interrogating a subject: one is that they fight back and the other is that they die too soon. Crude, but succinct. The plan is to always keep them non-combative and responsive to pain. This is usually done with a combination of drugs. When I examined Mary, I noticed two things that immediately struck me as odd. One: she has absolutely no memory of the attack. Her memories end at around eight last night and pick up around four this morning. She doesn't have a head wound that would be serious enough to cause that profound of memory loss, nor does her psychology lead me to believe she would forget something just because it was traumatic." The doctor was watching the reactions of the people around the table. She made a mental note that the tall Marshal was especially close to Mary...the emotions played out on his face were telling. She continued, "The second odd thing is that Mary has no defensive wounds. She never fought back."

"Are you saying she was unconscious for the whole thing?" Stan was confused.

"No," answered Rehka, "there wouldn't have been any point to her injuries if she'd been unconscious. The pattern and nature of her injuries point to a plan to inflict pain over a period of time. What I'm saying is that she was drugged in such a way to keep her awake enough to react to the pain, but not so awake as to be able to overpower her attacker. Her blood tox screen showed what I expected to find; a pair of drugs remaining in her system which would achieve this goal. It's a common pairing for this type of activity." She pulled out the paper she had put her notes on. "The victim is dosed with a hypnotic, in this case rohypnol. You may know it as GHB. Given orally, it's the longer acting drug and keeps a baseline of lethargy. This is then topped by intermittent, small doses of a powerful stimulant to bring the victim into states of hyperawareness when painful stimuli are applied. The professionals use cocaine. It's easy to administer and is very predictable. The subject never becomes unconscious from the hypnotic because of the stimulant dose, but they never become overly combative from the stimulant due to the underlying hypnotic in their system. An added bonus is the amnesiac effects of the hypnotic." The expressions on the faces of her listeners ranged from confusion to disbelief. She continued, "Mary's blood tox screen showed drug levels of rohypnol pointing towards a dose around eight last night, and drug levels of cocaine pointing towards the last dose around two this morning. I think, and this is just a theory, that the last dose of cocaine was too big and enabled her to overpower enough people to get away and left her alert enough to drive with a rote destination of her house. Unfortunately, people drive high on coke all the time...it's not that hard. Her injuries wouldn't have slowed her down in that state. Once she was home, the cocaine was wearing off and she became unconscious from the rohypnol until she awoke naturally...that was around four this morning."

Stan was rubbing his face and angrily said, "This doesn't make sense! Why would they torture Mary? What information could they've possibly wanted?"

Marshall spoke after a moment, "Stan, they didn't want information from Mary. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time and they didn't even know who she was...they used her to get information from...someone else." He remembered they weren't alone, "I bet they left thinking the last guy would clean up and Mary did what she does best...kicked somebody's ass." He got up from the table and moved to the couch. As if moving away from the source of information would make it less painful. He looked at the doctor with tired eyes, "So, all her injuries weren't inflicted at the same time. They occurred over a span of six to seven hours?"

"Yes," she went on, "the oldest injuries, her face and first taser burn, occurred about twelve hours ago. The freshest wounds, some of the ligature marks around her neck and two more taser burns, occurred about five hours ago. The other injuries were sustained between those two endpoints." She launched into the plan of care for Mary's injuries, "The laceration to her head required two stiches but will be fine, she has deep bruising to her face, left shoulder and clavicle, right ribs and thigh and right hip. I suspect the right iliac crest...the thin part of the pelvic bone we call the hip bone...is fractured. I'm sure the left hand and fingers are broken in multiple places. She needs to come in for an x-ray to confirm these either later today or tomorrow...just give me call when you want to come. Try to keep her off her feet for a few days. That pelvic fracture needs to get a head start on healing before she's moving around too much. She can walk short distances, but nothing crazy. I splinted the hand and it'll be a few days before I can cast it due to swelling." She took a deep breath and finished, "Do you have any questions? Is there anything else I can do for you all?"

The room was completely silent.

Eleanor had already heard about the injuries, but had thought they were all sustained during a single attack. She was stunned. No one should have to go through that.

Stan just shook his head and rubbed his face. "Jesus." he whispered and Eleanor layed her hand on his knee for comfort.

Marshall slowly stood up and softly said, "I'm just going to go sit with her for a little bit." and turned to walk to the back bedroom.

"I gave her a strong pain injection, Marshal," Dr. Rekha informed him, "she'll be asleep for a while."

"That's good." was all he could say. "_Can I get one too?"_ he thought… "_this hurts like a bitch_."

He stood at the side of her bed and looked down at her, trying to find a patch of skin that wasn't tortured in some fashion. "S_even hours…with no one to help her…wondering if anyone was going to come for her…if she was going to die alone…_" his thoughts swirled around and he suddenly noticed the feel of tears on his cheeks. He pulled a chair around to where he could sit and touch her. Taking her right hand between his two larger hands, he kissed her fingertips and murmured, "I'm so sorry, Mary…I'm so sorry I wasn't there to save you. You had to do it all alone again and it's making my heart break...Please forgive me." His murmurs were accompanied by silent tears. He worked on slowly pulling himself together and calmed, purpose in his mind and revenge in his heart. "I'm going to find who did this to you and destroy them with my bare hands…I swear that to you." He noted that she was wearing his tank top and it made his heart hurt just a little more. He gently leaned over and placed a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. She shifted slightly and muttered, "Marshall…don't leave…" not really awake, just a reflexive response to his kiss. "Never...You are mine and I will never leave you." he promised, and waited until she was back in a deep sleep before releasing her hand and walking back out to the living room to begin the hunt.

***** I rewrote this one a number of times and still don't thinks it's quite right...but I hope you like it! I love Marshall and Stan fudging the crime scene evidence...Not enough to cause suspicion, just give them some time to mount their defenses and protect Mary. Cases of torture in this fashion are documented in medical papers...I didn't even have to make it up! Can you imagine Mary jacked up on coke? yikes! Marshall made me cry at the end :( Please review and stay tuned...the hunt is on! *****


	13. Chapter 13

***** Finally...less angst and more developing story. The pieces will slowly fall into place. No spoilers...enjoy!!! *****

**Thursday 9:00am**

Stan, Marshall and Eleanor had discussed a plan of action for the day which called for Eleanor to head into the office and begin to make discreet inquiries into the FBI agent's identity, Stan to get a few hours of sleep before calling some sources and trying to see how the investigation of the homicide scene was progressing, and for Marshall to set up a base here at Mary's house where he could conduct some untraceable searches on Martin and his associates.

"I'm going to catch a few hours of sleep before I get started." Marshall stated as he returned from his truck where he retrieved his overnight bag, "I want to be awake and relatively alert when she wakes up." He inclined his head towards Mary's room. "You know how she is…she'll try to run the show."

Stan nodded. "So, are you going to tell her what happened?" he asked Marshall.

"I know she's going to ask and she won't be happy if I try to placate her." Marshall began, setting up a makeshift bed on the couch, "I'll tell her about Martin, but I'll try to avoid telling too much because I want her memories to be actual recall…not what she heard me say. She'll understand that."

"I wonder how much she's going to drag out of that head of hers. She's pretty hard headed…may remember more than the doc thinks." Stan mused.

Marshall looked unsure and made a face, "I've read about amnesia and GHB, not a great percentage of victims remember events. At most, they recall vague memories of sounds and discrete actions or snips of conversations…some never remember a thing. We'll just have to wait and see." He shrugged.

Stan had watched Marshall react to the doctor's report and knew he was struggling with what happened to Mary…they all were. But somehow, he sensed, Marshall was letting himself take the blame for this. "Marshall, there was nothing we could've done, you know. No way to know this was going to happen…or that it was happening. Don't let this eat at you. She did good…she always does."

Marshall had moved to the front window and was staring out at the yard. "She wouldn't have been there if not for me."

"What are you talking about?" Stan replied, very confused. He walked over to Marshall's side and joined him in watching the non activity out front.

"I just** had** to remind her to take those books to Martin…couldn't let her forget. If I had let it go she would never have gone over there and this…." He waved his hand in the air ineffectually, his face pinched. "What if she hadn't been in her running clothes? What if she had had her badge on her? What if they hadn't needed to use her? She'd be…" he was cut off as Stan grabbed him by the upper arms, turned him to face him and gave him a rough shake.

"Stop it! You are not, in any way, to blame for this." Stan aborted Marshall's attempt to go down a dark road. "You need to focus, Marshall. If she needed you, it's now. We need to find out what happened, and your brain is one of the best at doing that. Between the three of us," he was never so glad to have Eleanor on his side as when dealing with the FBI, "I think we can fly this under the radar long enough to be ahead of the rest of the investigation. We have to have our asses covered by the time the FBI comes knocking on this door. Don't forget, Mary killed that agent…they'll figure that out. It won't matter that it was self defense because they're still going to try to hang her. We've got to be ready to meet them head on and rattle their cages." Stan noticed Marshall focusing on him and his agitation seemed to be down a notch. He released the younger man and turned back to the window.

"O.k...O.k, you're right, of course," agreed Marshall, "the feebs will want to pin this on someone fast…keeps their agent from being looked at too closely. The real question in this whole thing is: What did Martin have that they wanted so badly? What is the connection? Did he ever have a run in with the FBI? I don't remember his case involving them at all."

"Me neither." muttered Stan.

Neither man seemed to be able to draw their attention away from the view out the window, which was odd, as there was nothing to see but Mary's front yard and a quiet street. Stan spoke again after a few minutes, "We may have to move her at some point."

"What?" questioned Marshall, then suddenly realizing what Stan meant, "Shit! I didn't think about that. As soon as she's ID'd she'll be in danger if the bastards think she remembers anything…dammit!" Marshall's worry level jacked right back up to ulcer producing.

"I don't know…so long as they think she has absolutely no memory of this she may be fine. They've exposed one of their flanks already by losing their man, and I don't think they're going to be too hasty to come after a Marshal for no reason." Stan was thinking hard. "We may actually be able to use that to our advantage…" he trailed off.

Marshall stared at him and growled, "Don't you think she's been used enough, Stan?" There was subtle warning to his tone.

Stan looked up at Marshall and caught up to his train of thought, "Get that out of your head, Mann. I'd never put her in danger, and you're an idiot to even think it!" he scolded Marshall as a new thought pulled up. "The one we're going to have to rein in is your fool of a partner. She'd more than willingly hang her little ass out in the breeze to draw them in close enough to snag. Keep a very close eye on her."

"_Not a problem_," thought Marshall. He highly doubted he would be able to let her out of his sight at all for the next few days without suffering a severe case of the hives. She was going to be cranky and demanding and he was going to have to grow a bigger pair to keep her from trying to steamroll him.

Stan grabbed his jacket and headed to the door. As he grabbed the handle he turned to look at Marshall with a gleam in his eye, "The threat assessment just lit up, Marshall…and Mary's your witness. Treat her like one." He left knowing it would take an act of God for anyone to get to Mary now.

Marshall walked the perimeter of the house and then checked on Mary once more before succumbing to an uneasy slumber on the couch. He dreamt of following a trail of bloody footprints that faded into the horizon, sure he was being followed but seeing no one.

**Thursday 12:30 pm**

He awoke with a start and his weapon was in his hand nearly instantaneously. Something had interrupted his sleep and he listened carefully to pinpoint was it was. Not hearing anything immediately, he slid off the couch and moved towards Mary's room. As he reached the doorway and looked in, his stomach lurched. She wasn't there.

"What the hell?!" he said aloud, noting the disarray of blankets and pillows on the floor. He was almost panicked when he noticed the bathroom door was shut. That must've been what woke him. "Mare…are you in there?" he called anxiously, gently tapping at the door.

"Who else would be in here?" she grumbled back at him. He smiled in relief and holstered his gun.

"Are you all right?" he asked, amazed at her resilience.

"Not if you keep talking to me while I'm on the pot!" she called back, "Go away and I'll call you when I'm back in bed." Marshall was a bit reluctant to leave her on her own, but knew she didn't want him to see her in a compromised state. Her defenses were back up, probably on overdrive actually, and she was going to make this difficult now.

"I'll go away if you promise to call me if you need any help…Promise?" he was coaxing her.

"Go away, Marshall!" she tried to yell, but it came out more as a croak. He took that as a promise and moved back to the living room. He decided it was time to be up anyway and was thinking about what to do for lunch…breakfast…a meal of some sort.

Mary was hoping the brief conversation with Marshall was over because all that talking was making her short of breath again. She had awoken feeling as though she was being strangled. When she sat up in bed, the pain from her injuries snapped her into full awareness and she had to take a few minutes to catch her breath and relax. She hadn't felt this bad since the week after getting shot. Obviously, the pain meds had worn off. That was going to be a problem, she decided, when she realized she had a bigger problem…she had to go to the bathroom. Sitting still to listen, she heard Marshall snoring softly in the other room. "_Damn,_" she thought, changing her plan, "_I'm not going to wake him up for this…he needs to sleep._" She figured she'd try to get there herself and call him if she ended up on the floor.

Getting to the edge of the bed was difficult…no hard surfaces to brace yourself against. Once there, she gathered her energy and slowly stood up. As her left hand felt the pull of gravity, the throbbing started. "Jesus…that's not good." she whispered, trying to hold that hand a little higher. With very wobbly steps she moved to the wall opposite the bed so she would have something to lean against as she covered the distance to the bathroom. She was pretty sure her right hip would feel better if a bear was chewing it off. Gritting her teeth…which hurt too…she made it into the bathroom and sat down on the lid on the toilet. Panting and sweating. She used the plunger from behind the toilet to push the door shut. After catching her breath, she figured out the fewest moves possible to complete the transition to actually using the toilet. "_Thank God I only put on a tank top and undies._" she thankfully mused. When Marshall called through the door she was feeling pretty abrasive because she had started to realize getting back was going to be tougher than getting here…and she didn't want Marshall to have to help her. "_I never thought taking a pee would feel like running a frickin' marathon_" she whined to herself.

She put her self back together and flushed the toilet and quickly washed her hand and then realized she needed sit back down or fall down. She sat on the edge of the bathtub and then oozed down to sit on the floor with her back against the tub. The coolness felt nice. "_This'll work for a few minutes._" she decided as she gathered her wits about her.

There was another knock at the door and Marshall said with concern, "You're either washing your hands for a long time, or I need to come in there." He had heard the toilet flush a while ago and she hadn't emerged.

She sighed…she was going to have to let him in. "I need some pants and a sweatshirt." She called out to him. A bra would be nice too, but she couldn't imagine how she'd get into that without embarrassing them both. She'd just go with a sweatshirt over her tank.

A few minutes later he announced, "I'm coming in" as he opened the door, pajama pants and sweatshirt in hand. As he walked into the room she felt herself relax…feeling safe. They regarded each other silently for a few moments, reading each other's eyes. Marshall was feeling particularly protective looking at her sitting on the floor in her underwear, and Mary was feeling slightly self conscious as she realized how very thin her tank top was. To cover her embarrassment, she said, "So….how's it goin'?"

"Great!" He said sarcastically with a little grin, "My best friend is a giant bruise wearing underwear. You?"

"Grand." she deadpanned, "I've been on the bathroom floor twice in twenty four hours now. Pretty sure that beats my college record."

He had to chuckle. Typical Mary, break out the bravado when she doesn't have the upper hand. "Well, let's see," he slowly said while appearing to think hard, "how about you let me help you get dressed, and I'll make you some lunch?"

She tilted her head and squinted her eyes while replying, "Hmmmm…well now that you've seen me almost naked, you could at least throw in some pain medicine to sweeten that deal.

He actually laughed at that one and snickered, "Done!"

"Great! Help me up." she agreed while sticking her right hand into the air for him to grab. He crouched down and had her put her arms around his shoulders in a loose hug, supported her back with his hands and slowly stood up bringing her with him. She groaned the whole way up and was already breathing hard with just that movement. Mary held onto Marshall's shoulder with her good hand as he helped her step into the pants and get them up around her waist. She was irritated that he had to tie them too. Marshall, as he had bent down slightly to help Mary into the pants, had also realized how thin Mary's tank top was. He snapped his eyes away from her chest berating himself, "_Now is not the time to be thinking about that! Be good!_" The male hormones pouted in response to his self discipline. Luckily, Mary hadn't noticed as her eyes were tightly shut and her brow wrinkled with effort.

"How 'bout we get the sweatshirt on once you're back in the bed?" He offered, seeing how worn out she was and worried the extra effort of getting into the top would be too much.

"I want to go to the couch." She replied, "Then I don't have to yell back and forth with you in the kitchen." "_Sure_," she thought, "_I just don't want to be alone back here…I want to be in the same room with him._"

He smiled at her…somehow knowing what she was thinking. "O.k….I'd rather have the company too." he agreed. She hated it when he read her mind and narrowed her eyes at him.

She was determined to walk, so he put her right arm around his shoulders, grabbed her around the waist and they slowly made their way to the couch. He sat her down and she was pale, sweaty and panting. He just reached out and carefully tipped her over so she was laying down instead. "Probably where you're going to end up in a few minutes anyway." he said wryly.

"Yeah, thanks." was all he got in response. All her energy was focused inward on catching her breath and controlling the pain. She noticed the pillow on the couch smelled like him and smiled. He covered her with the blanket he had used the night before and now she felt like she was in a little Marshall cocoon. She had to admit, it was a nice feeling.

He retrieved her pain meds and brought her a sports bottle with ice water. "_Of course he'd think of that_," she thought, _"letting me be able to drink lying down without spilling_." Sometimes that analytical mind of his came in handy. Thinking of that, she realized what she hadn't yet asked. "Martin's dead, right? What did you find at the house?"

Marshall was putting together some sandwiches and paused, thinking about how to answer her question. She certainly wasn't going to waste any time getting to the point. It made sense, though, that she was concerned with her witness…and this would be the first witness she had lost to violence. She's had her share of opt outs and sometimes they die naturally, but none had been killed yet. "A lot had gone on at that house, Mare. And yes, Martin's dead. He was murdered." He continued to make the lunch, waiting for her response.

"So…are you going to tell me what happened? Or do I have to beg?" she snipped at him. Losing her witness was hitting her hard and she struggled to contain her emotions. Especially knowing she was there, in some capacity, and wasn't able to save him. Marshall hadn't replied and she wondered why. "Did I do something to get him killed? Oh my god…I didn't kill him, did I?" That thought had insidiously wound its way into her head and she pulled herself up to look over the couch at him wide eyed.

"No, no…no, you didn't kill him or do anything to get him killed. Relax." Marshall could see her getting worked up, "I'm not going to give you all the details because I have to see what you'll remember on your own. If you aren't recalling anything in a few days, we'll start filling in the gaps for you so you don't have quite a chunk of time missing…o.k.?" He grabbed the plates he had prepared and moved over to sit on the couch near her feet and placed the sandwiches in front of them. She decided she was ravenous and dug in. "Thanks!" she mumbled around a mouthful of sandwich. He just shook his head and started on his own meal. Mary did just about everything with gusto…one of his favorite things about her.

He talked between bites, carefully choosing his facts to not influence her memories. "We found two bodies at the scene; Martin's and an unidentified male wearing a ski mask and gloves. Both had fatal throat wounds. There was a lot of blood at the scene, which was how it got all over you. The unidentified man was wearing an FBI shield, and it looked as though there may have been more people there at some time during the night." She was thinking hard, he could tell, so he went back to eating for a while to allow her time to absorb what he had told her, saying just, "I'm really sorry about Martin. He was a nice guy."

"I wonder now…maybe he had managed to wiggle into something while I wasn't looking. His testimony was over almost a year ago…he was supposed to be free and clear of trouble. Maybe I didn't pay enough attention." She was staring off into space. "What the hell was the FBI doing there?…and it doesn't sound like they were playing nice."

"Well now…that's the million dollar question!" Marshall validated her thoughts. "Stan is going to see what's been found out so far by the PD and FBI investigators, and Eleanor is using her black magic to wheedle info out of her bureau contacts. You and I are going to wrack our brains and as many sources we can find to see what Martin was up to." He sat back and looked at her, "Of course, you and I are also going to go over to Dr. Rehka's office for x-rays later too." She rolled her eyes at him while finishing her lunch.

He took the empty plates back into the kitchen and straightened up. He knew Mary would fuss at him for being such a neat freak, but hey…he was a neat freak. She was quiet and he thought she may have fallen asleep when she spoke in a low voice, "I remember the smell of blood…and it was…slippery." He moved to where he could see her and she had a distant, glazed look in her eyes. She shook herself out of her reverie and was going to ask him another question when there was a knock on the door. She jumped despite herself, and Marshall held a finger in front of his lips as he quickly moved to the door with his weapon drawn. She wondered why he was so jumpy too.

"It's me, Marshall. Open up." came Stan's call from the porch. Marshall relaxed and opened the door to let Stan in. He had some boxes and files with him from the office. He smiled as he saw Mary awake and out on the couch and came over to her after setting down his load to put his hand on her head and ask, "How are you doing?"

She scowled and swatted his hand away, "I'm fine, Stan…and I'm not a dog to be pet."

He held up his hands, still grinning, "Yeah, yeah…o.k." and rolled his eyes at Marshall as he went into the kitchen to grab a drink of water.

"What's all this, Stan?" asked Marshall as he was weeding through the files and boxes of papers on the table. Mary had held out her hand for some info, and he gave her a packet of files to look at too.

She recognized the materials right away and filled in Marshall, "These are all transcripts and records from Martin's trial and his negotiations to get into the Program. What are we looking for?" she was curiously eyeing Stan.

Stan shrugged and said, "We've got at least one rogue FBI agent who wanted Martin dead and we're pretty sure he had buddies. We're looking for anything that ties FBI operations or agents to Martin at any time. It's a fishing expedition right now because we don't know anything about our dead agent yet. Eleanor ran his badge number and found his name and social…she's pressing some heads together now to dig out some more." Stan sat down on a chair opposite Mary and continued, "The Albuquerque PD has processed the scene," he and Marshall shared a quick look that wasn't missed by Mary, "and they don't have any definitive info as of yet except the ME put the TOD of Martin and the agent between two and four a.m."

Mary put down the folder she was looking at as her brain started to piece together the bits of info Marshall had given her with what Stan just said. Marshall had said the blood on her was from the victims after they were stabbed…Stan's statement that the time of death was between two and four am…they said there were more people there at some point in time… "What the hell happened at Martin's house between eight p.m. and four a.m.?" she pinned the men with a glare as she asked. She knew she had been in some sort of fight and had gotten beat up, but now she was thinking there was more to the story and the two fools in front of her weren't talking. "One of you had better start talking!" She tossed off the blanket and was making ineffective moves to get up. Marshall could tell she was hurting herself, so he walked over and sat on the edge of the couch in front of her hips, effectively pinning her without touching her. She couldn't push him off and couldn't maneuver around him. She ran out of energy pretty quickly and gave him one last slap before having to stop and just breathe. The glare was as heated and potent as ever, though.

"Are you done?" he asked dryly, rubbing at his thigh were she had landed a surprisingly strong punch. She closed her eyes and gave a quick nod. "Good. Now, as I told you earlier, if we tell you what happened, then any memories you regain might be influenced by our stories. We want you to remember the real story…not one that you may have heard. Again, if you don't remember anything soon, we'll tell you what we've concluded about the missing time."

She knew he was right and resigned herself to having to wait for her brain to decide what it was going to do. Patience was definitely not her virtue…if she even had any virtues…and she turned her energy towards trying to avenge Martin however she could. "Well, give me some papers then, we've got a lot of info to review here."

They divvied up the files and papers, Marshall and Stan powered up their laptops and the rest of the afternoon was spent in a search to find out why an antiques dealer turned janitor ended up staring at the ceiling in a pool of blood. Mary lasted about an hour before she fell asleep with files open on her lap. Marshall laid her back down on the pillow and covered her with the blanket. He let her sleep until four and then took her to the doc's office for x-rays of her hand and hip. The hip bone was fractured, not too severely at least, and she had five breaks in her left hand. Dr. Rehka resplinted her hand for comfort and told Marshall to bring her back in three days for a cast. The doc felt it was necessary to tell Mary about the drugs in her system, but due to the request by Marshall, did not give her any details as to the why. Mary seemed pensive after getting the diagnosis and learning about the drugs and was quiet on the way home. He let her just think.

Eleanor had come by the house to bring more files and had some cursory information on the FBI agent. Marshall made some spaghetti for everyone and Mary thought it was probably the nicest dinner she had had at her house in a very long time. No one was bitching, fighting, whining or trying to get out of cleaning up. She migrated back to the bedroom herself around eight in the evening…Marshall only hovered irritatingly…and stared at the wall for a little while trying to force memories back into her head. Nothing. A few tears fell for Martin, but the episode was short lived and the last round of pain meds were kicking in. Her limbs started to feel warm and fuzzy and she was able to take some deep breaths without pain. As she drifted off to sleep, she kept seeing a box of books spilled on the floor and heard someone laughing…she wondered what was so funny.

***** Nice to see Mary with her game face on again. See...I told you she'd be fine...takes a lickin' and keeps on tickin'. I liked the idea of Stan basically making Mary Marshall's witness...it makes sense. And he knows how well Marshall protects his witnesses. Stay tuned...Bobby D. gets some action in the next chapters! Please keep reviewing...I'm always so excited to read new reviews! *****


	14. Chapter 14

***** Let's get this ball rolling! The investigation is on and Bobby is a sly one. Mary actually opens up to Marshall...yay! No spoilers. *****

**Friday 6:50 am**

Bobby D. was stabbing at the delete key wishing it was a more satisfying target. It boggled his mind that in the five days he spent recovering from his bullet wound he had accrued over three hundred emails in his inbox. He wasn't even looking at the subject anymore before he deleted them, just keeping the ones from people higher on the food chain. He'd find some time to sort through those later, but right now he just wanted to restore some order to his desk and computer so he could concentrate on the cluster handed to him yesterday morning.

The images of the crime scene continued to flash in his mind randomly and still surprised him in their stark gruesomeness. Bobby had seen some bad…really bad…scenes in his years on the force, but this was near the top of the list of "what the f---!?". The CSI techs were still talking about it in their morbid fascination with the distance the arterial blood had travelled (almost ten feet, apparently)…that's what happens when you give geeks access to blood and guts. And, of course, everyone was talking about "the one that got away". The forensics had revealed the presence of five distinct evidence contributors at the scene: two men (presumably) who had left boot tracks that did not match those of the vics and who would've had the mass to inflict the injuries to the homeowner, the FBI agent who was killed about the same time as the homeowner, the dead homeowner and a fifth person who had left behind bloody hand and footprints, hair and DNA. Current presumption was that this person was a woman due to the fact that the hair was long and blonde, and they had found a size nine pair of women's running shoes shoved under a couch with blood on them. The jury was out on where this person could've gone. By process of elimination, the mystery woman's blood type was identified and the blood belonging to her at the crime scene was mapped. She wouldn't have been in very good shape with the amount of blood she had lost. The techs, and some of the junior officers now, had nicknamed her Anastasia after the urban legend of the missing Russian princess.

Dershowitz had canvassed the entire neighborhood and sent officers to check all the hospitals, clinics and veterinarians within a ten mile radius with no luck. There was blood on the front door, the porch railing and a small trace on the sidewalk, but the trail disappeared after that. No bus drivers or cab drivers had reported an obviously bloody passenger and so far none of the neighbors had seen or heard a thing. The only 911 call received from the area came from the untraceable cell that called in the incident. It was possible the two other men had taken the missing woman, but the evidence seemed to point to their departure occurring before the deaths of the homeowner and FBI agent, and the disturbance in the blood pools related to their demise were made by the missing guest so she must've still been there during, or after, their deaths. Bobby fully expected to get a call telling him they had found a body within close proximity to the crime scene by the end of the day. He'd love to find them alive, however, so they could explain to him why he had a dead federal agent wearing a ski mask and gloves, a nearly decapitated fifty five year old janitor who had been severely beaten and a house that looked like a set from a Stephen King movie. The feebs were already swarming the house and throwing their weight around more than usual considering they had a body at the scene was going to be an embarrassment…it was going to be a long and tiring case. He had to smile in spite of himself because he knew he loved this job due to the long and tiring cases. He finally had the items in his inbox down to a manageable twenty five when there was a knock at the glass door leading into his area.

"Hey, D." called the lead CSI investigator, walking over to Bobby's desk, "I got ya a present!" She was waving two file folders in the air and grinning evilly. She had called him late last night and triumphantly announced they had managed to recover enough detail from one of the bloody handprints to run them through the system. He had been hoping for a hit and anxiously awaited news. He told her to let him know before she showed it to anyone else.

"'Bout time," grumbled Dershowitz good naturedly, holding out his hand for the files, "let's see what we got."

She held them back teasingly and said, "Ah, ah, ah…wait 'till I tell you about the surprise. Even though we knew Martin Swartz's identity, we always run the vic's prints through AFIS and we got an interesting hit from this guy." She bounced her eyebrows at him and then announced, "We also got a hit on our Anastasia…you're gonna just love it! Are you a betting man?" she asked.

Bobby narrowed his eyes at her, "Sometimes….why?" His gut was telling him this was going to get so much worse before it got better.

"Because if you were, I'd say that with the dead agent and these two, you just won the worst trifecta on the face of the planet!" she shook her head and handed him the files.

Bobby opened Swartz's file first and swore aloud, "Shit!" The words "FILE NOT ACCESSIBLE. SECURITY LOCK" stamped across the print request only meant one thing: protected federal witness. And in this city, that meant the Dynamic Duo were going to be rearing their ugly heads pretty soon. This would be like a dog fight between the FBI and USMS and the Albuquerque PD usually got their ass bit in the chaos. "Might as well see what else is in the mix," he sighed as he opened the second file.

The CSI investigator watched Dershowitz actually pale enough to look ill when he opened that file. He just stood there staring at the picture on the page. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph…" he whispered. His gaze snapped up to her and he asked, "Are you positive?" She nodded emphatically. He snapped, "Who knows these IDs have been made?"

"Just me and you right now. I was on my way over to the command room after my trip here. I'm sure the FBI is running their own forensics, but my team hasn't quite gotten around to telling them about the second set of prints yet." She gave him a sly smile because she had a feeling he was going to need some time and she was willing to grant him the favor as he had granted many to her over the years, "You need me to hold on to these for a while?"

"Can you?...just for twenty four hours," he looked eternally grateful, "I just need some time to do some investigating that I don't need babysitters for."

"I never saw you, and I never saw these files." She said, turning her fingers in front of her mouth as if tightening a key, "Good luck." She left him to his musings.

Bobby slowly sank into his chair as he again looked at the picture and ID in the second file: United States Marshal Mary Elizabeth Shannon. "_What the hell was Mary doing at that massacre_?" his brain was trying to decide whether he was seethingly angry or utterly terrified at this development. The evidence told the story of a badly injured woman being the last surviving person in that house, and that person had left the house and disappeared. "_Where is she_?" he was thinking fast now. He grabbed his cell phone and almost dialed Mary's number when he had a sly thought. Dealing with Mary and Marshall was tricky. You had to know who to direct the questions to because they shared a brain and were sneaky and evasive. You also had to know what setting to ask the questions in. Surprise, he had learned, was the better part of valor, and he was hard to get rid of once he landed on your doorstep. The detective grabbed his coat and cane and limped down to the forensics lab to borrow some items of interest, then out to his car.

**Friday 7:30 am**

Marshall had been up for about an hour and was taking advantage of the quiet house to do some more research on Martin's background and trial before Stan stopped by to plan the day. Mary was sleeping soundly right now, but had had a very restless night. The doctor had expected her to sleep poorly the first night due to the lingering effects of the rohypnol in her system, informing them that she may experience symptoms similar to mild withdrawl. Sure enough, she was awake from about midnight until three or four this morning with sweats, chills and disturbing dreams. The pain medicine helped a little bit, but mainly she benefited from company and reassurance. He had slept for an hour or two in the overstuffed chair in her room during that time, then when she seemed to finally fall into a deep sleep, had moved out onto the couch for about two hours of sounder sleep. He felt tired, but not as exhausted as he was yesterday.

As of last night, Stan and Eleanor hadn't come up with anything interesting about the dead FBI agent. His name was Peter Jansen and he was a twenty year veteran of the agency. His record was clean enough, certainly nothing to scream "I'm going to torture unknown women and kill federal witnesses". Recently, he had been working with an exclusive team of agents to infiltrate a diamond smuggling ring operating out of San Diego. Most of the progress on that case was classified, but Eleanor was working her magic…mainly referred to as blackmail…with some of her old contacts at the FBI to pull out some bits and pieces of information.

Marshall was assigned to digging more deeply into Martin's background and trial. On the surface, there seemed to be no reasonable connection between the two parties. He was frustrated at their lack of progress even though he knew it had only been twenty four hours since the incident. He and Stan were still worried about Mary's safety. Again, they were assuming the missing man, or men, from the scene were also federal agents and that they would have all the access to the case…and all the access to Mary's information. The shit was going to hit the fan at some point, and it was the waiting that was hard. He went back to looking through Martin's trial dictation and previous life. The doorbell startled him and he was on alert. Stan wasn't supposed to stop by until later in the morning. Moving to the door quietly, he peeked out the window. "Son of a bitch!" he swore under his breath. Bobby D. stood on the doorstep and Marshall put his game face on. Normally, he would not view Dershowitz as a threat, but they just didn't know where the danger was coming from in this situation.

------------------------------

Bobby noted Marshall's car in Mary's driveway along with her own. If Marshall was here, that meant Mary was here…which meant she was alive. He couldn't wait to hear this story. He limped around Mary's car and noted that it was unusually clean…interesting. He headed up the walkway and rang the doorbell, wondering about the reception he would receive.

Marshall opened the door and stared at him, "Bobby, what can I do for you today?" He was all business.

"Hmmm", replied Dershowitz, eyeing the man suspiciously, "you don't look like Marshal Shannon." Getting absolutely no reply from Marshall, he continued, "I have some information I want to run by you and Mary. We have what I can only assume is one of "your people" at one of our crime scenes. Can I come in?"

"What information?" Marshall's response was clipped and he made no move to invite the detective into the house. Dershowitz wouldn't have shown up here unless his plan was to talk to Mary. Bobby was tricky, sneaky and evasive. Marshall had a hunch he knew Mary and Martin were connected. His gaze remained flat and still and Bobby recognized the look of a cop assessing a dangerous situation. A cop on sentinel duty. Mary was in that house and there was no way Bobby was going to get access to her unless he could convince Marshall he was no danger to her.

He talked, "Martin Swartz was murdered between two and four a.m. yesterday along with an FBI agent in a suspicious scenario. In addition to identifying the presence of two other men at the scene, we uncovered evidence of a woman at the scene during the murders and who was likely still present for a short time after the murders. This woman was nowhere to be found when officers arrived on the scene around eight a.m." So far, Marshall's expression and posture remained unchanged. Bobby reached down to the bag he carried and pulled out pictures of evidence, "We found a pair of women's running shoes, a clump of bloody hair, bloodied areas within the house with her blood type and foot and handprints throughout the scene." Marshall had looked at the photos as he showed them to him, but didn't seem surprised by the sight. "_Oh damn it_," realized Dershowitz, "_they've been to the scene._" He suddenly knew who placed that anonymous 911 call. "_Clever fellas,_" he thought as he just knew Stan was there too, "_didn't leave any evidence behind and have already bought themselves twenty four hours to mount defenses and uncover information. Bet they screwed with my scene too." _Bobby continued without revealing his inner irritation, "So, imagine my surprise when the prints from the vic and from the missing woman came across my desk this morning. I have a dead FBI agent, a dead federal witness and Mary Shannon was in that house when those men got dead."

The Marshal's eyes now flashed anger as he anticipated the accusations. Instead, Dershowitz said, "The first thing I did was confiscate those files and forbid my forensic specialist to release the results for twenty four hours. The FBI is out for blood because of their own agent and they'd just love to harass Mary again. I know Mary's not good for this, but I need to know what happened so I can help you."

Marshall was surprised…shocked even. He expected a demand for Mary's statement or a threat of a search warrant, not a helping hand. Ever cautious, he spoke, "Mary's not available to answer questions today, Bobby."

"Come on, Marshall," Bobby warned, "you need to throw me a bone here. I'm putting my ass on the line…especially if the feebs find out I stuffed these files. At least tell me what she knows."

"I can't tell you anything right now that you don't already know." Marshall slowly replied, which was the truth.

Dershowitz sighed. The tall Marshal was going to stonewall him in his misguided attempt to protect his partner. "Listen, Inspector, I don't want to have to get the story from her by getting a warrant or dragging her ass down to the station. I wanted to come over here and foster a sense of cooperation. We've worked together in the past so what's the problem?"

There was a hoarse voice behind Marshall from the other side of the room, "Just let him in, Marshall. He's like a tick. He won't fall off until he's got what he needs."

Marshall's head whipped around as he turned and he said, "What are you doing up already?"

The woman standing and leaning against the wall replied, "I heard the doorbell and was hoping for Chinese food."

Dershowitz swore, "Holy shit…" there wasn't much more to say. She wore a t-shirt and pajama bottoms and the damage to her face and neck were painfully obvious. He noted the splint on her left wrist and hand and the multitude of bruises covering her arms. He was appalled.

"Come in then." invited Marshall as he walked swiftly to Mary. She accepted his support to get around the last few feet of the couch and sank into the cushion. She grunted and winced with the effort and Marshall was scowling at her as he walked into the kitchen to get her some breakfast. "You're not supposed to be up, you fool. What if you fall down before that hand gets casted? You're going to give me a coronary." Marshall huffed as he banged silverware around. She shot him an irritated look as best she could with one eye still swollen, "Relax, Florence. I'm not a fragile flower." She knew he worried, but she hated feeling weak and was self conscious in front of Dershowitz.

"Are you going to just sit there gaping at me, or was there a purpose to your visit?" she snapped at Bobby D. She had slept restlessly and was just in an irritable mood this morning. In addition, the thirty six hour rule now applied and her hand and hip hurt worse today than yesterday.

Marshall brought the detective and Mary both a cup of coffee. He also put a loaded bagel in front of her with her pain meds on the side. Her mood softened a bit…only towards Marshall though…Dershowitz was still in for it. As he sat next to her, Marshall warned her, "Be nice, Mare. Bobby came in good faith and he's willing to bend a few rules to help us out here. He's got info the Feds don't have yet and he's not feeding them." She knew he was right and sulked.

"So," she waved her hand at Bobby's leg, "how's the leg? I see they let you go back to work."

"Yeah, limited duty though. I don't get to play with big boys until I re-qual for the physical." Dershowitz shrugged a shoulder, "Nothing physical on this case, though, so I'm running with it." He took a sip of coffee before asking with sincerity, "You look like shit, Inspector. Are you all right?"

"Let's say I've had a taste of how Humpty Dumpty felt and was awfully glad I ran into all the King's men who were actually competent." She indicated Marshall. "I'll muster through…as usual."

Dershowitz nodded and noted that although Mary seemed normal, her postured showed fatigue already and her eyes would tighten with pain when she shifted her weight. Knowing she would wear out pretty quickly, and only become more irritable as it happened, he got down to business.

"This is going to sound cliché, but what were you doing between 6pm Wednesday night and 4am Thursday morning?" he flipped open his notepad.

"I was running in Rodello Park from 6:15 until around 7:20 Wednesday night. I then drove to…" she glanced at Marshall who nodded, "to Martin Swartz's house to deliver some books. At that point, I remember being pulled into the house by an unknown assailant, thrown to the ground and kicked by other unknown assailants, and then nothing until I woke up on my floor behind you around 4am yesterday morning." She realized she had just remembered the thrown to the ground and kicked part. "_That's a good sign_," she thought. Marshall didn't like that part and scowled. "I've been told," she continued, "that I was drugged with rohypnol and cocaine during that time, and apparently took a beating." Being drugged with the GHB didn't bother her as much as the cocaine. She didn't know why, but knowing someone forced her to use coke made her feel violated. She shuddered.

"What?" said Marshall, feeling her shudder and looking at her sideways.

"Nothing…just the heebie jeebies all of a sudden." she dismissed it, not wanting to deal with it right now.

Watching them, Bobby almost wished he had a partner to hold him up sometimes. Having someone that attuned to your wants and needs would be an advantage most of the time, he figured. Of course, then you have your shit **and** someone else's shit to deal with…and he could do without that. He knew why these two worked as well as they did. Some would say opposites attract, but the dichotomy was only on the surface. They were two peas in a pod fundamentally, both just people trying to find other people to accept them. Blasting their way through life, figuratively and literally, and each finding a place of rest and peace within the other. And they'd both gladly shoot you where you stood for so much as harming a hair on the other's head. That, and the tall one was hopelessly in love with the bruised one. He smiled.

"So, you have no memories of events or persons between, say, 8pm and 4am?" he rephrased her statement for her to confirm.

"That's what I said." She snarked at him. Marshall got up to get more coffee, then remembered the evidence Eleanor had collected and went into the laundry room to get it.

"Can you recall any details about the assailants who pulled you into the house? You know how even something minute could be important." He was trying to coax her to remember without nagging.

She sat and thought for a few minutes, then shaking her head, replied, " I just remember being on the floor, face down with my head turned away from everything so I couldn't see what was going on. And I remember someone laughing…it's so weird because it seems almost like I'm watching a movie. I don't remember how I was feeling. Just images of the action…" her gaze focused on a distant point.

Dershowitz decided to focus on the other end of the memory loss, "How did you get out and get back here?"

"I don't know." She said it definitively, shrugging her shoulders. "I woke up face down…again…and that's the first thing I remember. Then I got myself to a phone and called Marshall."

Marshall had grabbed the bags of bloody clothes and was now perched on the arm of the couch.

Bobby thought of something, "Who ran a tox screen on you?" Surely, he thought, someone at a reputable medical facility would've notified the police if someone looking like Mary had come in.

"Someone did us a favor. I didn't leave here to get treatment." She chewed on a bite of bagel then said, "I'll see if we can get you an "unofficial" copy of the results."

"Mary," the detective began, knowing he was going to get smeared by asking the next question, "is there any way you did the drugs willingly and things just went bad?"

She was suddenly livid. "What kind of freakin' question is that, Bobby?! Do you honestly think I would put that shit in my body willingly?" she had scooted to the edge of the couch and Marshall could almost feel her vibrating with anger, "What…I just had a "bad trip" and actually enjoyed being a human punching bag? Maybe I broke my own hand for giggles and grins? You can just take your goodwill and…and..you can…" she leaned back against the cushions, layed her head back and closed her eyes. Despite her absolute best efforts at control, a tear slipped out and ran down her face.

That was Marshall's cue. "Time to go D." he announced and physically helped the detective off the couch, gave him his cane and walked over to open the door. "Here're the clothes we found her in Thursday morning. Most of that blood isn't hers. Next time, use your brain before you ask stupid questions." He shut the door just as Dershowitz cleared the jamb.

Bobby didn't realize how much the question was going to upset her. He wanted to apologize, but wisely decided that would be better received at a latter date. He also realized he had left the evidence and crime scene photos inside. "_Oh well…I can get more and they'll need them._" he assured himself as he walked to his car.

-----------------------

Marshall walked back over to Mary and realized she continued to cry silently with her eyes closed. The tears ran down her face and dripped onto her t-shirt. The only noise she made was an occasional shuddery hiccup. He wanted to just scoop her up and hold her, but knew she would not only resist, but that he'd hurt her. Instead, he sat on the coffee table in front of her and placed his hands on her knees, just gently rubbing her legs in a slow and relaxing fashion.

"What are you thinking, Mare?" he quietly asked, "What's got you so upset?"

After a few minutes, she spoke but kept her head rested back and her eyes closed, "I never experimented with drugs, Marshall…never tried them or wondered about them. With an alcoholic mother, I had to be in control all the time. I couldn't ever take the chance that I'd be incapable of making a decision or unable to take care of someone." He listened carefully…this was new information. "I'm still that way…always have been I guess. I can't relinquish control or everything unravels…" her voice had caught and she took a few deep breaths to settle herself. "I don't know why, but out of all my injuries and insults from this whole mess, knowing someone put drugs into me makes me feel…just…less." The tears started again and he scooted closer so his knees were bookends against hers, almost helping to hold her together. "They took my control away and that's the worst thing." she whispered.

He understood her feelings and knew there was nothing he could say to make it better. He reached up to her face and gently wiped away some of her tears. She opened her eyes to look at him and that's all it took. He moved to sit next to her and she fell into him…face buried in his chest and right hand gripping his shirt around his waist. He kissed her head and murmured comforts into her hair and held her for a long time while she cried…and for a while longer after she stopped and they both fell into an exhausted sleep.

***** I can just see Marshall running Bobby out the door...in that ever savagely polite way he has! At least Marshall realized Bobby's their best friend right now. Please keep reviewing as I've got more chapters waiting. I'll keep 'em coming if you like them! *****


	15. Chapter 15

*****The team tries to unravel the mystery of Martin's death and Marshall lays down the law. It gets a bit steamy, folks...beware ;) No spoilers. *****

**Sunday 8:30 am**

Marshall was having one more cup of coffee before starting on the errands of the day. Eleanor and Stan were going to come over around lunch time and they were going to powwow over Martin's phone and computer records and crime scene photos. He wasn't sure he wanted Mary to see the photos, but since he did promise her some info after a few days he felt he owed her a least a pictoral glimpse of the night. He needed to run to the store and to his house for groceries and clothing.

He and Mary had both slept soundly last night. Mary had finally convinced him to sleep in Brandi's bed instead of the couch and he was glad he took her advice. They were both in a better mood and since Mary was able to get her hand casted a day early she was in less pain and moving around more freely. Speaking of Mary, he looked up as she walked into the kitchen in a pair of shorts and a tank top with her running shoes on. She got a drink of water from the sink and his brow furrowed.

"What are you doing? Why are you dressed like that?" he pointed at her shorts and shoes.

"I'm going for a walk." She announced as she held up her hand to him because she saw the expression on his face, "Dr. Rekha said I could take short walks and I feel like I need some fresh air. I'm just going to go around the block a time or two."

"No, you're not." He stated with finality, staring at her. He saw her get mad and rise to a challenge.

"Yes, I am." She walked toward the front door and he jumped up and pushed past her to stand in front of the door. She gaped at him in amazement and anger. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"You are not going for a walk by yourself." He stated calmly again, not relinquishing his position.

"Fine, idiot, then come with me." She gestured with her hands in a what's-the-problem manner.

"I don't have time to come with you right now. I have to run some errands and you're going to stay inside the house until I come back. I'd take you with me, but you tend to draw too much attention looking the way you do." He was matter of fact and irritatingly cool. "We can go later if you're still up to it."

She put her hands on her hips and stared at him in disbelief. "You don't own me! Who the hell gave you the right to tell me what I can and cannot do?" she shot back.

"Stan." said Marshall simply.

Now she was more pissed. They were conspiring against her! "What!?" she spit out, "granted I owe you two serious gratitude here, but I certainly don't think it gives either of you the right to think you can control my life. Now move!" He didn't.

"What the hell, Marshall! Are you going to handcuff me to the chair if try to leave the house?" she was more confused than pissed now because he was acting weird.

"If I have to, yes." he stared at her coolly and she knew he meant it.

She narrowed her eyes and him and growled, "You better start talking fast, boy, and make it good. What's the goddamn problem?"

He stayed where he was as he explained, "The FBI know who you are, Mary," he was referring to the calls Stan started getting yesterday, "and we can conclude there are those within their ranks who would rather not chance you blabbing to anyone about the circumstances of Martin's death. Your life may be in serious danger if they get to you. We have to keep you safe until you can remember who did this and we can take them down." he tilted his head as he asked, "Sound like a familiar scenario?"

She had a sneaking suspicion about this. "_They wouldn't…would they?_" she wondered as she tried to read Marshall. He resorted to reading her mind again and said, "Yep. Stan made you my witness. We're not relocating you unless we have to…and if you go, I go. So…you're not going for a walk, or anywhere else, without me."

Her mouth hung open for a minute, then she snapped it shut…opened it again before changing her mind about speaking and shut it again. He could see her processing the info and he wasn't sure where this was going to go. By giving her the scenario and the plan of action, he deflated her balloon of objections and she was mentally grasping at straws. He figured she'd try to wiggle out on a technicality and he was right.

"I didn't agree to this or sign a memorandum. I don't have to abide by the regs." she snapped at him, but her heart wasn't fully in it. She knew Marshall's devotion to his witnesses, and combine that with his devotion to her…she wasn't willing to put his life in danger just to get her way. Still…she didn't have to make this easy. "Fine!" she hissed as she stomped back to her bedroom, "you can watch my ass, but don't think I'm going to jump through any hoops."

He smiled thinly as he literally watched her ass all the way back to her bedroom door. He knew she'd toe the line…for him. She trusted his instincts when he was on the job and if he needed her to do something in that capacity she wouldn't question him. He wasn't worried that she'd try to leave the house now while he was gone, but he knew he'd be in for verbal abuse and sulking for the rest of the day.

He was gathering up his keys, badge and weapon when she came back out of the bedroom, now dressed in a different tank top and loose shorts over her bathing suit. She had a towel and a book and walked into the kitchen to make herself a snack to take out to the pool. "So, Dad, can I sit out by the pool while you're gone?" she was whiny and wouldn't look at him.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation. "Yes, Mary, you can." he replied in the same nasty tone, using her full name to express his irritation. "But make sure the gate is locked. Hey…" he called to her before she went out the back door, and she turned to look at him, "do not open the door to anyone, especially anyone with a badge…except Bobby." He was dead serious.

"Yeah, yeah…I know the drill, Marshall." she reassured him.

He continued to stare at her for a moment and said quietly, "So did Martin."

Her eyes dropped as she realized the implication of his comment. She looked back up at him and said with complete sincerity, "I promise to stay safe." With that she turned to go out to the pool.

"I promise to keep you safe." he whispered to her retreating form, then turned to head out for the morning.

**Sunday 11:10 am**

Mary was relaxing in the lounge chair by the pool when she heard her front door close. She tensed, grabbed her gun on the table next to her and waited. In just a minute, she heard Marshall's voice call, "Mare, it's me." before poking his head out the back door. He knew she'd be sitting there armed and didn't want his head shot off. "I'm going to jump in the shower before Stan and Eleanor come over. I helped my neighbor move some furniture and I'm gross. You good?" he asked in case she needed anything before he went back inside.

"I'm good." she replied and waved him in. She wanted to finish the chapter in this book before going in to take a shower herself. The sun and fresh air had done their job and she felt a hundred times better than she did yesterday. The chapter was done too soon, and she decided it was time to go in. She redressed, grabbed her things and headed in. After dropping her dishes into the sink, she was walking back to her room when Marshall walked out. He was wearing a pair of jeans without a belt, a nicely fitting t-shirt and was barefoot. Having just stepped out of the shower, he was toweling his hair dry and it was disheveled and falling over his forehead. She stopped halfway down the hall and stared…She recalled, over their years of partnership, thinking the man had at times looked dashing or handsome…or even cute, but this time the only adjective that stuck in her brain was…Sexy. With a capital Sex. Her hormones clapped with glee at being released and her breathing picked up a bit.

He noticed her presence in the hallway and started talking, "Hey Mare, the shower's all yours and I was thinking that after…uh…" he had looked up to see her standing a few feet away and his words trailed off. She was looking at him with naked want in her eyes and his body responded immediately even as his brain said, "_Whoa, cowboy_!"

"Mary," he said low and soft, "if you keep looking at me like that, we're going to have a problem." She walked slowly towards him with an odd little smile on her face and he backed up a step before his back hit the wall. "_Problem_." His rational mind had become monosyllabic.

Mary knew what she was doing even as her brain chastised her, "_You're going to start something, girl, that you may not want to finish!_" She told it to shut up. The events of the past couple of days…and the events over the last year had finally added up to kick her in the ass. The man in front of her, the man who she currently wanted with a desire so strong it left her breathless, was the only thing in her life that brought her happiness and peace and she was tired of being afraid of him. If he rejected her, so be it. She knew he'd never leave her as her partner and friend and having just that would be enough.

"What kind of problem?" she asked in a husky voice, standing right in front of him and only centimeters apart. Her pupils were dilated and her cheeks flushed. Even with the fading bruises, she was the most gorgeous, exotic creature he had ever seen. She lightly ran her right hand up the center of his chest, then gently scraped her nails down over his nipple. His eyes darkened and he hissed in a breath as he reached up to grab her wrist and trap it to his chest to stop the movement. She had no idea what she did to him.

"We're going to get on a highway, here, that may not have an off ramp." he whispered. He didn't move, and except for the hand that held hers still, made no move to touch her. The feel of her right now would unravel any thin thread of self control still intact. Their gazes were locked and they were both breathing heavily. He knew the moment she had made a decision and his world tilted slightly.

Mary leaned forward and brought their bodies into contact from thigh to chest, being careful of her hip. She lifted her head and lightly traced kisses down his jaw, breathing in the scent of his aftershave. Lifting her hand from his chest, with his still attached to her wrist, she tangled her fingers in his damp hair. "I like highways," she whispered as she tilted his head down to hers, and brought her lips into the barest of contact with his, "I get to go really, really fast…" she breathed into his mouth before completing the kiss.

She was intoxicating, he decided, and he couldn't drink deeply enough. Her lips were sweet and soft and the kiss was slow and exploring. His hand on her wrist slid slowly down her arm and side and finally settled on crossing over the small of her back and cupping her left buttock. He felt her respond to his touch as she pressed her hips into his for a moment. He wanted to pull her to him tightly, but knew he had to be careful of her fractured pelvis. He was trembling with need. His right hand reached behind her neck to cradle the back of her head and keep her lips against his.

"_Oh yes…_" she thought as their bodies intertwined, "_I remember this!_" The man liquefied her and his hand slowly traveling down her side to cradle her ass caused her to gasp and press herself into him more. She felt her pelvis complain and reluctantly relaxed the pressure. She wanted him so badly and needed to feel him. Her casted left hand was no good for this and she rested it on his right hip, but her right hand found its way under his shirt and wandered up his ribcage. The feel of skin on skin forced them to both moan and he broke the kiss to tilt her head back slightly and begin to trace his tongue along her jawline to her ear. She smelled like summer and tasted slightly salty from sitting in the hot sun. He nipped her earlobe and placed kiss after kiss along the side of her neck. "Jesus, Marshall," she uttered, barely coherent now, "I don't think I can get enough of you."

He opened his eyes to look in hers and moved to murmur into her mouth, "Take all of me, then." He slowly drew his tongue along her bottom lip then sucked on it gently. Her legs nearly gave out with the sensations that provoked…no one had ever done that before and she quickly rated it high on her list of things that turned her into a puddle. The man was more than he seemed and she was looking forward to finding out just how many tricks he knew. He went back to kissing her and his left hand now climbed under her shirt and he spread his fingers wide to span her right ribcage and caress the underside of her breast with his thumb. Her swimsuit top was the thinnest of barriers.

The doorbell rang. They froze.

His right hand fisted in her hair, gripping her head firmly at the same time she tightened her grasp on his ribs. He reluctantly ended the kiss and pressed her head into his chest as he rested his head back against the wall. He moved his other arm to wrap around her back and they stood there breathing heavily. She could feel the pounding of his heart under her ear. "God damn road construction." she panted. She felt him chuckle and he replied, "More like the highway patrol…slowing us down before we do something…reckless." The doorbell rang again and they knew they had to move. Both had forgotten Stan and Eleanor were coming over to look through the evidence from the scene and dig through Martin's phone calls and emails.

"You'll have to deal with them right now, Mare. I'm not in any state to greet visitors." Marshall grinned as he talked.

"Yeah," she replied leaning back to slyly smile at him, "I'm very aware of your… "state"." She rubbed her hips on his. He pushed her away gently and teased, "Temptress! Get thee gone." She ran a hand through her hair, trying to tame the disarray and blew out a breath to settle herself.

"O.k, Pervis," she tossed over her shoulder as she headed to the front door, "adjust your pants and come out here when you're decent."

Mary yelled, "Coming, coming…don't get your undies in a bundle!" at the door as she unlocked it and threw it open after checking the peephole.

Stan and Eleanor stood there, Stan looking impatient and saying, "Took you long enough…I was starting to get worried. Why are you out of breath?" Eleanor was staring at Mary with an odd look on her face.

"Geez…I was outside laying by the pool and Marshall must still be in the shower. I had to rush in here and I'm not quite up to rushing yet." Mary was lucky she lied well and lucky that Stan wasn't really paying too much attention to her. She didn't realize she looked like a woman who just been thoroughly kissed and nearly bedded and that the other woman in the room recognized it for what it was.

Eleanor knew exactly why Mary had taken so long to get to the door and her mind was racing, "_Ah…a new development! Wow…Mary looks quite ruffled…wonder what that boy did!_" Mary caught her looking at her and snapped, "What?"

"You should lay out in the sun more often, Mary. I hear the effects of vitamin D on the brain are sometimes similar to the release of endorphins after sex. It can make you feel very…satisfied." She smiled at the slightly stunned looking Marshal and they just stared at each other for a moment. Mary blushed and Eleanor winked at her. Stan missed the whole exchange.

Mary knew she didn't like another woman in the office for a number of reasons…and this was one. Eleanor would never tell Stan what she knew, but now Mary finally understood how Eleanor seemed to have so many people willing to do things for her at the drop of a hat. The woman should've been a spook, she was purely devious.

Marshall came out of the back room, again toweling his hair dry, and greeting everyone normally. He had put on tennis shoes and a belt. Mary put her game face on and excused herself to shower and change out of her suit.

**Sunday 4:45 pm**

There were no more papers to look at and their brains were tired and stomachs hungry. The whole afternoon had been spent studying documents, cross checking names and dates and looking at crime scene photos.

Martin Ragolli used to be a partner in an antiques business in Monterey, CA called Signature Antiques. His business partner, Damien Glass, was well ensconced in the San Francisco mob and used the business to smuggle anything from jewels to drugs. Martin was fully aware of the side business, but never involved himself nor was asked to participate. The business ran smoothly and no one gave Martin any trouble until two years ago. One of Damien's suppliers from South Africa had a buy go bad after moving merchandise through Signatures and felt the antique shop was to blame. The supplier sent a clean up crew to Monterey to sanitize the problem, but didn't count on Damien's mob connections. Damien and Martin spent a few hours enduring the not-so-tender ministrations of the South Africans before the mob hitmen burst onto the scene. It was a blood bath and a good citizen called the cops. Martin was in a unique position. Not only did he have information about the smuggling operation, he had information about the San Francisco mob structure. Feeling no particular loyalty to his partner after getting sucked into the mess, and trying to avoid collusion charges, he gratefully agreed to go into WITSEC for his testimony in both cases. His information led to the conviction of the South African's right hand man in the U.S., and a minor player in the west coast mob family. The trials were uneventful and no threats or issues arose before, during or after Martin's testimony.

Mary and Marshall had gone over the bios of every player in the court cases and had come up with no connections to the FBI or to Peter Jansen. They had also combed through Martin's associations since being relocated to New Mexico and could not find anyone suspicious. His bank accounts were boring, credit cards paid off and he never ordered anything online. He didn't even have any bills automatically withdrawn each month…wrote a check for everything. He kept in contact with some of his local friends through email and Eleanor was looking at those along with his land line and cell records.

Marshall called his employer to inform them of his death, and they had nothing but good reviews for the man. He worked in one of the older, downtown buildings that housed offices for insurance underwriters, accountants and collection agencies. It seemed to be a dead end. They were frustrated. "God…" huffed Mary, "why can't I just remember a snippet of relevant conversation…a face…anything?" She was laying on her back on the floor with her hands resting on her stomach, legs crossed at the ankles and files strewn around her, staring at the ceiling.

Marshall looked at Stan and raised an eyebrow. Stan nodded. "Hey Mare, how do you feel about looking at the crime scene photos?" he asked her, watching for her response.

She didn't move or respond for a minute and was actually torn. She wanted to see them, but didn't want to have some sort of traumatic flashback or reaction that would unbalance her. Her world had been tilted, jerked and whirled around mercilessly for the past four days for a number of reasons and she thought that maybe it would be nice to just lie here on the floor staring at the ceiling for a while longer. "What do you think, Marshall." she directed the question back at him while continuing to gaze upwards, hoping for some guidance, "How do **you** feel about me looking at the crime scene photos?" She figured she had burdened the poor man with more than enough angst for a lifetime and wanted to give him a chance to opt out of a situation that could bring more his way. She recalled what he said in that hallway, "_Take all of me, then…_" and realized she took and took and he never stopped giving. "_It's time for me to start giving too._" she decided.

Marshall didn't really understand why she had asked him that. Did she think he would be upset if she didn't remember anything? Did she think it would hurt him to see her upset if she did remember something? "I don't know how to answer that, Mare." he replied slowly and honestly, "Why don't we take them one at a time, and if it gets overwhelming we can save it for another day?" He picked up the file of pictures and sat down on the floor a few feet away from her. She reached out her hand and he passed the first one to her.

It was a picture of the front room with the dead FBI agent on the floor. She stared in amazement at the amount of blood in the photo. "_No wonder I was covered in it!_" she thought. "He must've crawled here from where he was stabbed." she surmised quickly. She studied the man, his clothes and the position of the body. Other than being interesting, it provoked no response in her memory. She placed it aside and Marshall handed her the next one. The dining room, the pool of blood and Martin. She furrowed her brow at seeing her witness with his throat cut open and lying exposed for all to see. Touching the picture with her finger she murmured, "Poor Martin…what a crappy way to die." Stan and Marshall shared a look of concern, but Mary didn't seem upset, just maudlin. Nothing in the photo jogged her memory, nor did anything strike her as odd. Again, the picture was set aside and the next handed to her. The knife. There was almost a little flash of light in the back of her head as her brain tried to latch onto something. She drew in a breath…waiting for…nothing. "Dammit" she sighed, "I almost had something there." She looked over at Stan, "Did this knife kill both Martin and the agent?"

"That's what we're assuming at this point. We haven't heard from forensics yet." he informed her, wondering if she was going to come to the same conclusion he and Marshall had made Thursday morning.

She didn't seem to follow through with that thought and placed the picture on top of the others. Two more pictures followed without any discussion, and the last picture was of the inside of the front door with her handprints. There was a large bookshelf to the right of the door and a window to the left. It was the first evidence she had seen of her actual escape and she took a deep breath to become comfortable with the fact that indeed something very bad had happened and she had been there. "Wow," she pondered out loud, "How the hell did I get out of there? By rights, I should be dead on that floor with everyone else." She squinted as something in the picture caught her eye, then rolled onto her side and propped herself up with her elbow saying, "Wait a minute…there's something odd…I wish I had a magnifying glass."

Eleanor, seemingly oblivious to the conversation up to this point, stood up and said, "I think I may have one." She walked over to her purse, reached in and moved a few things around, and produced a magnifying glass with a flourish. "Tada!" she sang as she handed it to Mary.

The Marshals all just stared at her in puzzlement, thinking the same thing, "_Who carries a magnifying glass in their purse?_" Mary posed the question, "What else do you have in there, Mary Poppins?" She peered at the items in the photo through the lens and then pushed it over to Marshall. "What do you see on the second to bottom bookshelf?" she asked.

He studied the picture and replied, "Books, some more books and some kind of coin collection. What am I looking for?" He looked up at her and she said, "Read the titles of the books near the coin collection." Knowing it would be useless to resist, he read the ones he could see, "'Lost Collection of Kings: Coins of the Ancient World', "Early European Coinage", "Displaying your Coin Collection", and "Ming Dynasty Coins and Coinage." He knew he was supposed to be making a connection here, but was coming up empty. Sending Stan a pleading look, but the older man just shrugged.

Eleanor had been listening and suddenly knew what Mary was seeing. She lent her voice to the conversation, "Mary, I'm impressed! I never know when you're listening." Mary shot her a smug smile. The boys were still lost so she filled them in, "Remember when we were digging into the info I gathered together about Peter Jansen, the dead FBI agent? Well, one of the things we read about was his extensive collection of ancient coins. He had an impressive following and showed his collection at many conventions across the country." She gave a little flourished bow to Mary, "Gentlemen, I believe we have a connection."

"Well then," Mary began as she levered herself very ungracefully to her feet, "Now that I've once again solved the case, can we please eat? I'm frickin' starving!" No one could really argue with that and they took a well earned break.

**Sunday 10:00 pm**

Marshall stood and watched her, asleep on the couch. Stan had stayed after dinner and the three of them had continued to study the files and photos for more information. They talked about strategies and Stan let them know the FBI wanted to send two agents over to the office tomorrow to share information. Mary had sat down on the couch around nine, and Marshall knew she had fallen asleep soon after by the rhythm of her breathing. Now that Stan left, he knew he should wake her so she could go to bed, but he didn't trust himself.

Just looking at her, his body remembered the want from earlier and if she even attempted to coax him into her bed tonight she would get no resistance from him. That's not what he wanted…yet. Instead, he brought her comforter out to the couch and tucked it around her. She never even shifted during his efforts and he was doubly glad he decided not to disturb her. She needed a few more nights of sound sleep and so did he. He kissed her on the head and murmured a good night, then took himself back into Brandi's room to see if he could banish the image of a blonde goddess urging him to drive faster.

***** This was a fun one to write! So, Mary's now an unofficial witness and the relationship continues to progress. Please keep reading and reviewing!! *****


	16. Chapter 16

***** Time to meet with the FBI. Mary has her game face on...at least for a while. Setting up for more! Some vague season 1 spoilers. *****

**Monday 7:15 am**

"I don't want them here…not in this house." Marshall stated his objection yet again as he stood in Mary's living room arguing with Stan.

Mary came out of the back room, dressed for work, and interrupted the argument between the two men, "Not that anyone seems to listen to my opinion lately, or actually remembers that this is **my** house, but I don't want them here either. I also see absolutely no reason why I can't go into the office. I can sit around on my ass all day there as well as I can here." She stood there with her arms crossed and tapping one foot impatiently. She and Marshall both glared at Stan together.

Stan had made the unfortunate suggestion that the FBI team come to Mary's house for the interview and strategy session instead of dragging Mary into the office. Unfortunate because he neglected to realize Mary's need to get out of the house and Marshall's need to keep the threat as far away from her as possible.

He held his hands up in surrender towards the pair and said, "I get it, I'm overruled. Mary, you can come in to work, but if I think for a minute you're overtaxing yourself I'm sending you home. Got it?" He stared at her hard.

Mary grinned and grabbed Marshall's arm and shook him as she gushed, "Oh Wally, isn't it keen, Dad's letting me go to his office!" Marshall looked at her like she had lost her mind and Stan grunted in disgust as he turned to leave. She dropped the charade as soon as her boss was gone and huffed and muttered at the front door that had closed behind him, "I'm not seven years old, Stan…Jesus." as she headed into the kitchen for coffee.

"He's right, you know," began Marshall, "you think you're ready to get back in the saddle and you're probably not."

"Oh, this from the man who insisted on coming back to work a mere week and a half after having parts from a car engine shoved into his chest…that's rich." retorted Mary sarcastically.

"Hey," he protested, actually serious, "it's a well known fact that the Mann men are a tough breed! We don't need as much time to heal as normal people."

The way he said it just made Mary bust out laughing and she almost choked on her coffee. "What? …it's true!" he protested. She walked past him laughing, patted him on the chest and continued down the hall to her bedroom giggling. He poured himself a cup of coffee and scowled in her direction, "Damn woman.." he muttered.

**Monday 10:20 am**

Mary had enjoyed the morning back at her desk. She felt like she had a purpose and wasn't just wasting time at home. She and Marshall bantered as usual, and Eleanor got in her two cents whenever she could. It was family.

The elevator opened and Stan walked out with two men in suits. FBI. The mood in the office sobered immediately.

Their boss made the introductions as he lead the FBI agents into the office. "Inspector Mary Shannon and Inspector Marshall Mann," he indicated the pair, "meet Special Agent Tom Fawler and Special Agent Sean Davis." The foursome shook hands and Agent Fawler eyed Mary. He directed his first question to her.

"So, you were the "one that got away", huh?" his tone was light and joking.

"So they tell me," she replied with a small, tight smile, "I still have no memories of the night in question."

"No little glimpses of what happened? Hints?" he prompted.

His tone was patronizing and she put him on her shit list. She crossed her arms over her chest and said dryly, "Nothing."

He raised his eyebrows in a falsely surprised fashion, turned to his partner, Davis, and said, "Pretty incredible, isn't it? That's a lot of physical activity to forget…and a long time to have unaccounted for." He gestured at her as if to indicate her injuries then turned to look at her questioningly again.

Marshall's shit list was now populated too. This guy was an ass in FBI clothing, as he had discovered many of them were, and Mary was going to lay into him in a few minutes if he didn't defuse the situation.

"Do you have a point? Or are you just here to breathe my air?" sneered Mary. She almost added "asshole" but held her tongue for Stan's benefit as he was looking anxious.

Marshall stepped closer to Mary and said peacefully, "Let's just concentrate on what we need to get done here, o.k.? We've all agreed to share our info so we can find the guilty parties. Discussing the event can be left until later when everyone gets to draw at twenty paces."

He gestured to Stan to herd the agents into the conference room, and as Mary went to follow, placed his hand on her arm to hold her back slightly. "Don't let him get to you…they don't need any ammunition against you right now. I'm going to tell you something you don't know and they don't know, but it matters now. There's a very good chance you stuck that knife into the killer's neck, Mare. It was obviously self defense, and…Stan and I wiped your prints."

He kept a hold of her arm, not knowing how she'd react and wanted to make sure he could keep her from giving herself away. Mary had already figured out she must've killed the agent after seeing the crime scene photos, but chose not to bring it up so as to not disturb the men. "I kind of knew that," she simply stated, meeting his eyes with gratitude, "thank you for wiping the prints…you put yourself at risk to do that." She took a deep breath and said with a smug smile, "I should've stabbed him twice when I had the chance." He smiled back, leaned in close and whispered in her ear, "That's my girl!"

"Awwww…aren't you just sweet." she said mockingly as she pushed him away. "You won't be singing that song in about ten minutes." She headed toward the conference room.

"Why not?" he asked, confused as he followed her.

"I figure that's about how long it'll take for dickhead to torque me off enough to club him over the head with my cast. Mary – 2…FBI assholes – 0." She threw open the conference room door after her statement and stalked inside in perfect form…except for the limp. Marshall wondered, for the billionth time, what deed in a former life had sentenced him to love a homicidal maniac disguised as a goddess.

Eleanor was already feeding the FBI agent's names into her computer and mentally noting her contacts that may know them. She had to chuckle at Mary's comment, and actually figured it would only take about five minutes until Fawler met his doom. She didn't like that one. Something about him rubbed her the wrong way.

*****

The atmosphere in the conference room was tense and everyone was shifting their weight to get comfortable, yet not wanting to give up any advantageous posturing. Stan placed the files containing Martin's info on the table as Agent Davis produced the file on Peter Jansen. The Marshals then stared at Davis until he was uncomfortable enough to start talking.

"Special Agent Peter Jansen was a mid-level operative who specialized in embezzlement scams and smuggling operations. His record was clean and there was no suspicious activity in his finances or abnormalities in his personal life. His only extracurricular activity was coin collecting and he traveled to conventions occasionally to display his collection. He was single, with no children or close family. Actually, the perfect person to get sucked into illegal activities as he was nearly invisible." He paused because Fawler cleared his throat loudly. "Ah…yeah…he was working on a special assignment for the past year, classified, and had been reassigned for six to eight months out West."

"Diamond smuggling…San Diego." Mary said succinctly…just to rattle their cage.

Fawler turned to her and snapped, "How did you find that out? That's classified information and I don't think you are aware of the gravity of the situation if it gets out!" His stare was intense and disturbing.

Mary leaned forward and deliberately plopped her left hand onto the table in front of him, the cast making a loud "thunk". "Believe me," she sneered at him, "I'm fully aware of the gravity of this whole situation."

Marshall really wanted to shout "HA!" in the agents face, but instead shifted his legs and pressed his calf against hers under the table to rein her in, just as Stan warningly said, "Mary…"

She did not react outwardly to Marshall's signal, but sat back and asked Davis to continue…pointedly ignoring Fawler, who continued to stare at her. Davis looked uncomfortable, but launched back into his report. "Jansen had reported in every two weeks as scheduled, and the team was making some slow progress on tracking the product…uh…diamonds…being distributed back to their source. There had been some irregularities in the shipments within the last month or so, however, and the team had been scrambling to find out what the problem was."

"What sort of irregularies?" asked Marshall.

Agent Fawler spoke, "Not something we can discuss. It's likely there was an issue with the source." He straightened up and continued with a falsely sympathetic tone, "We have found out, regrettably, that Agent Jansen suffered from alcoholism and had been acting increasingly erratic over the last few weeks." He looked at Mary and said, "I'm sure you know how that goes."

Stan sucked in a breath and Marshall sensed Mary go completely still. He was prepared to peel her off the agent across the table and tensed himself to get up. Amazingly, she looked at Fawler calmly and deadpanned, "Yes…it's a tragic disease." and turned back to Davis to say, "Do you think there was a connection between Jansen's behavior and the irregular shipments?" Marshall watched Fawler turn red and stare daggers at his partner. Mary couldn't have done a better job of torquing him off and he smiled slyly.

Mary was seething. Mentally, she was imagining gouging Fawler's eyes out, but was determined to remain calm and collected during this meeting. Normally, she wouldn't be so concerned about how she was perceived, but knowing Stan and Marshall had risked their careers to tamper with evidence for her sake, she would do everything she could to cooperate fully. As she was asking Davis the question about the shipments, Eleanor politely knocked and brought in a file for Stan to sign. It was odd, but Stan didn't seem to react to it.

Davis replied to Mary, "Um..well, I don't have any information to link those two. Tom, did we look into that?" he turned to the senior agent.

"There is no link between the two." Fawler said definitively.

Stan scratched his head and said, "Are you sure? I heard that the irregularities in the shipments occurred near or during the same dates that Jansen was out of town at a coin collection convention. And, in fact, these "irregularities" were shipments missing a large volume of diamonds." He tilted his head to look at the two silent agents and pursed his lips before saying, "I guess you two must have missed that memo."

Mary and Marshall exchanged a startled glance. This was information they did not have either and were wondering when Stan had received it. Mary suddenly knew, and nudged Marshall under the table while discreetly jerking her chin towards Eleanor. Marshall understood immediately: Eleanor had brought that file in to show Stan that info. "_Spook_" thought Mary again, "_And she always manages to look so damn innocent_."

Fawler angrily changed the subject and turned to Mary again, "Well, we showed you ours…what've you got for us?" Mary looked at Marshall, continuing to refuse to be baited.

Marshall laid out the basic info on Martin, his actions over the last six months, and the knowledge that he was a collector of ancient coins just like Jansen. They surmised that the hobby was the link between the two. "In fact," Marshall was warming to his subject and becoming more animated, "we found that the coin shows Jansen attended were the same ones Swartz had gone to. Which makes me wonder…was Jansen giving Swartz the diamonds to move? Martin's background as an antique dealer and partner of a smuggler would certainly facilitate easy access to contacts and routes." Marshall now pulled out the cell phone and email records Eleanor had combed over. "We found an unlisted cell number called eight times in the last three months and an encrypted email address that Martin sent odd files to in the same time period. They may be the link to Jansen, or the ringleader of this little gang." He provided the FBI team with copies of the info.

Fawler looked irritated. He looked at the records Marshall gave him and curled his lip, "I highly doubt it would be this easy to track the culprits. I'm pretty sure these will turn out to be nothing but hookers or online porn access."

Mary looked incredulous, "So…what? You're not even going to look into them?" she looked at Marshall and Stan questioningly, then addressed Fawler again, "Jesus, Fawler, we've done all your work for you so far…do you need us to run these for you too?"

Fawler leaned over out of his seat and slammed his fist into the table in front of Mary. Mary flinched backward and Stan and Marshall stood up. Davis just stared, wide eyed. Fawler snarled, "Watch your mouth, Inspector! We haven't even started with you yet…we'll see what's left of you when we're done, eh?" Mary was speechless.

Stan said icily, "Sit down, Tom." his stare dared the agent to do otherwise. "If you think we agreed to sit with you only to have you assault my Inspector you are sorely mistaken. I will allow you to ask Marshal Shannon questions if, and only if, you can direct them to her in a civilized manner. Do we have an understanding?"

Fawler actually looked contrite and responded calmly, "Yes, I understand. Agent Jansen was one of my trainees and I remember him being a decent man. I guess this whole thing is hard for everyone who knew him." It was as close to an apology as he would probably give.

Marshall had sat back down after Fawler and as he listened to the agent's explanation for his actions, found himself doubting the sincerity of the statement. He again placed his leg against Mary's as he could see she was rattled by the interaction. There was just something hinky about Fawler and he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Of course, Inspectors, we will follow up on these numbers and addresses." He then looked at Mary again and continued politely, "Mary, what do you remember about the night of the murders?"

She eyed him suspiciously, but retold the same story she had told Dershowitz the other day. Vague memories of the initial assault, but nothing after that. Fawler was quite civil and followed a script of questions that probed into different aspects of the reconstructed event from forensic evidence. He also asked a few pertinent questions about her knowledge of Martin's activities for a few days before the event.

Then Fawler asked, referring to his notes, "Our forensics evidence shows the drugs rohypnol and cocaine in your blood at the time of the event, were those drugs you use on a recreational basis or do you believe they were introduced to your system that night?" His eyes gleamed with anticipation.

Again, Mary impressed Marshall with her response and demeanor. "As I don't use drugs recreationally, now or ever, I believe they were given to me in order to force my cooperation during the night."

"Your cooperation with what, Miss Shannon? Sex?" Fawler shot back at her. "We found your tennis shoes and socks at the scene…maybe it was a party and there was an argument?"

This time, Stan was sure he was going to have to peel Marshall off the Agent. He watched his Marshal closely, ready to intervene if necessary.

Mary just narrowed her eyes and tilted her head before answering in the same, calm tone, "There was no indication of sexual assault or sexual activity found during my medical exam, so no…not for sex."

"Of course…we found no evidence of that either. …and you probably would've remembered **that**." The last part of the sentence was mumbled under his breath and only audible to Mary and Marshall. Fawler had looked back down and was shuffling his notes. Mary felt Marshall tense and just reached over and set her hand on his arm for a moment. Enough contact to say "leave it alone". She had no idea why Fawler was trying to provoke her, but now it had become a game…and she loved games that ended with verbal destruction.

"Tim," she said sweetly, purposefully getting his name wrong, "if you like me that much, why don't you just ask me out for a date? I'm sure we could get some of those little blue pills to help you out." Marshall snorted and had to bite his cheeks to keep from busting out laughing, and Stan looked like he was going to fall over. Davis just ducked his head and tried not look at anyone.

Fawler stilled and slowly looked up to meet Mary's gaze. She smiled and winked. "We're done here." he announced, sweeping the files into a box and standing up to head to the door of the conference room. Davis looked at the Marshals and shrugged, then got up to follow his boss.

The five people walked slowly towards the office doors. Agent Fawler turned to Mary and held out his hand. She was unsure, but reached out to shake it. His grip was firm and he said, "Well played, Inspector. They were right about the mouth on you. Let me give you a tip though." His grip tightened painfully but she refused to react to it, "if you remember anything, you may want to keep it to yourself. There're people out there who would do just about anything to keep their secrets." She wasn't sure how to take that remark. She looked at Marshall and he also looked nonplussed by the agent's comment. He released her hand and turned to finish the goodbyes to Stan and Marshall. Mary just faded back and turned to get herself a cup of coffee…strangely unsettled. As she passed by Eleanor's desk, the secretary said, "My hearing may not be as good as it used to be, but that almost sounded like a threat." Mary looked at her, considering, and shrugged, "I don't know…maybe he's just an asshole and is pissed at getting beaten at his own game. He imagines himself some big, bad federal agent. You know the type."

Marshall came over to grab some more coffee also, and heard Mary's comment to Eleanor as Stan walked the agents out to the elevator. "I think agent Fawler suffers from "short man syndrome"." He drawled, "studies have actually shown that men who are less than average height develop a coping mechanism to deal with a perceived notion that people think they are less of a man due to their vertically challenged stature. They tend to be cocky and exaggerate their sexual prowess and physical abilities."

The women looked at each other in amusement and then Mary said, "Interesting," she raised an eyebrow at him, "so do tall men downplay their sexual prowess then? Stallions between the sheets, but mild mannered by day?" she was teasing him and Eleanor was trying not to laugh.

Marshall was caught, and he knew it, so he challenged back, "All I know is…we don't kiss and tell." He had a knowing smile on his face and Mary's eyes widened slightly in surprise and delight before she looked at the floor. Eleanor's radar was humming now… "_I knew it!"_ she thought, filing away that little tidbit for the right time.

Stan was loading the agents onto the elevator and the men shared a joke. Agent Fawler laughed out loud as the doors to the elevators closed.

Eleanor and Marshall saw the blood drain out of Mary's face at the same time. Eleanor grabbed a chair and Marshall grabbed Mary. He lowered her into the chair and she put her head between her knees. She was breathing too fast, he knew, and he didn't want her to hyperventilate and pass out. "Grab a wet towel." He instructed the other woman as he knelt beside Mary and rubbed her back, "slow your breathing down, Mare…c'mon, honey, slow deep breaths…" That's how Stan found them as he entered the office.

"What's wrong?" he barked, "What happened? Is she hurt?"

"I don't know what happened, Stan. She just went white all of a sudden." Marshall noted Mary's breathing was slowing, but now she was shaking. He could hear her muttering "Oh my god…oh my god…oh my god…" but couldn't see her face as her hair had fallen in front of it with her head down. He continued to rub her back and Eleanor placed the cool towel on the back of her neck. "Mary, what's going on?" asked Marshall as he bent down to try to catch her eye, "Talk to me…did you remember something?" He could feel her just trembling under his hand and she seemed to be trying to calm her breathing, but would still occasionally sigh, "Oh no…no…no". She was unraveling right in front of him and he didn't know what to do. "Are you sick?" he tried a new line of thought. She shook her head no and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"That laugh…" she whispered, her head still down, "Fawler's laugh…"

"What about it?" asked Stan as he, Marshall and Eleanor exchanged puzzled looks, "Did it remind you something?"

"Fawler…he was there." She was rubbing her thighs reflexively in a move that announced a very high level of stress, "He was the one…asking the questions."

A ball of ice formed in the pit of Marshall's stomach and burned its way outward until he felt aflame with anger. Stan had sensed the Marshal's anger rise and wisely put a hand on his shoulder to keep him at Mary's side. "Are you sure, Mary?" Stan had to ask.

Mary turned her head to meet Marshall's gaze. She saw raw fury in his eyes and he saw naked fear in hers. "I'm positive. I remember." They locked eyes for a few more moments until she took the towel from the back of her neck, leaned back in the chair and placed it over her face. She saw the reflection of her own emotions in Marshall's gaze and didn't want anyone else to see her so exposed. She felt stripped and raw and the memories flooded back unbidden, stopping for nothing and making her flinch in their viciousness. _"I have to get out of here,_" her thoughts raced with panic, "_I have to get away from all these stares because I'm falling apart and I can't hold all the pieces!_

"Someone please take me home." She pleaded, voice quiet and shaken.

Stan turned to Eleanor and instructed, "El, take Mary home and stay with her. Just…keep her company." he didn't know what they could possibly do for her that would make anything right at this point.

Of course, Marshall voiced his protest immediately, "The hell with that! I'll take her home…she's my witness." He was angry and confrontational and stood up to face Stan, "Eleanor can't protect her!" All he knew was that the look on Mary's face scared the hell out of him. She looked at him like she had been drowning and couldn't save herself. He had never seen fear on Mary's face before, and he never wanted to see it there again. He was seething.

Stan, never one to back down, stood toe to toe with the tall man and said, "You're not going anywhere Marshall. I would be an idiot to let you out of here right now. You'll go when you've calmed down and not until then." He saw Eleanor getting her things and talking softly to Mary, "We need to put our heads together right now and figure some things out. No one knows about this except us and Mary's safety rides on that. They won't bother her yet…and Eleanor's not as helpless as you seem to think."

Marshall looked at the secretary and she met his gaze steadily, "I can hold my own pretty well, Inspector. You'd be surprised. I wasn't married to an FBI agent for that long without learning a few tricks." She headed to Mary's desk to grab the woman's things.

Marshall went over to Mary and crouched down next to her, placing his hand on her forearm. "I want to go with you." he said quietly.

"No, Marshall," she replied in a low, shaky voice, taking the cloth off her face to look at him. Her eyes were scared and sad and he just wanted to put the spark back in them. "Stan is right. You need to stay here." She saw the hurt flash across his face and realized he thought she was sending him away. "I'm shattering right now and need to put myself back together and I can't do that when I'm this close to you. I know that sounds backwards and I promise I'll try to explain it later." She caught his gaze again and put as much sincerity into her voice as she could. "I'm going to tell you everything when you get home…I will…but you need to not be angry and I need to not be afraid when we finally sit down."

He knew he liked the sound of her saying "when you get home". He didn't really understand her reasoning, but then figured she was right…he was too angry to think straight right now. "Will you promise to tell me?" he didn't know how much hope was painted on his face. "If you promise to come home." she replied. As he stood up, he leaned close to her and whispered, "I will." He walked into Stan's office as his boss called for him.

Stan occupied Marshall with arranging surveillance on Mary's house while Eleanor got Mary out of the office. Now that they knew Fawler was the ringleader of the group of rogue agents, they had another point of origin to start investigating. The trick was to keep Fawler from finding out they were looking at him. As soon as he knew, Mary's life was forfeit. They had to find enough info to pin it on him in order to put him away. Stan was comfortable with Eleanor watching Mary for the few hours he figured it would take Marshall to simmer down. Once his Inspector's head was cleared, he would be able to follow the plan and not be in danger of acting as a vigilante. They began the search.

**Monday, 1:30 pm**

Mary had never been in Eleanor's car before. "This is a nice car," she said, looking around, "is it new?"

Eleanor played along, knowing Mary was trying to grasp on to an ordinary topic to focus herself, "I got it about four months ago. Got a great trade on my old guzzler…trying to save the environment, you know." she smiled at the younger woman encouragingly.

"Yeah," said Mary with a small smile and she picked at her seatbelt, "my car and and the environment have pretty much a hate-hate relationship."

"I noticed." replied Eleanor. She was watching Mary out of the corner of her eye. The Marshal seemed dazed. She had a completely flat affect and looked just…wrong.

"Mary," Eleanor began, noting no response from Mary, "was it just Fawler's laugh that you remember, or did you remember everything?"

"I think it's everything…with just a few blank spots." Mary didn't elaborate. "It's kind of hard to sort out right at this moment."

"Mmmmm," acknowledged the older woman, knowing there wasn't anything else to say.

"How good are you?" asked Mary suddenly.

Eleanor wasn't sure what she was referring to, "How good am I at what?"

"You told Marshall you could take care of yourself pretty well and you knew a few tricks. I'm curious…humor me." Mary replied.

"Well…I have a black belt in Kung Fu and Tae Kwon Do, I've taken a number of jujitsu lessons and teach women's self defense classes at the Y. I have a licensed weapon and train at the range twice a month and always qualify." Eleanor was thinking and tossed in, "Oh, and I'm pretty dangerous with a baton."

"What?...a baton?" Mary suddenly realized what she had said. The Marshal was impressed by Eleanor's credentials.

"State Champion competitive baton twirler, teen division 1974." announced Eleanor with pride.

Mary was smiling now…angst forgotten for the moment, "Why do I find that completely believable?!" she chuckled and Eleanor laughed along with her.

***** ooooh...the FBI guy is evil! Can't wait to see what they plan to catch him! The conference scene was fun to write...especially Mary's dig. Don't you just want to put Marshall and Fawler in a room together and see what happens!! Please keep reading and please keep reviewing! *****


	17. Chapter 17

***** Soul baring, confessions ahead!! Vague spoilers and references to other stories. Thank you for all your reviews!! *****

**Monday 5:30 pm**

"She's out back, throwing rocks." Eleanor stated plainly to Marshall as he walked into Mary's house. "She hasn't said a word, just told me she remembers the whole night with a few brief gaps during the ride home."

Marshall stood at the sink and looked out at his partner in the back yard. She had about four or five tennis ball sized rocks she would throw at a knot in the wood on the fence. Then she would retrieve the rocks, go back to her starting place, and throw them again. Even after his anger was under control at the office, he remained on edge as long as Mary was out of his sight. Just being able to see her right now eased his mind greatly.

"How long has she been out there?" he asked. He was concerned with the lack of expression on her face…the rote activity that had no meaning.

"Since we got home…about four hours I guess. Sometimes she'll stop for a while and sit on the ground, but she just sits there and stares off into space. I tried to get her to eat something, but she said she wasn't hungry. She came in once to use the bathroom but went right back out." Eleanor could see the tension in Marshall's body as he listened to her narrative and watched Mary in the backyard. She knew Marshall had his work cut out for him. Dealing with someone after a traumatic event was hard enough…dealing with someone as volatile as Mary made it doubly difficult.

The man moved to sit down at the table and looked at her. "I'm sorry," he stated simply.

"For what, Inspector?" She was trying to think of some missed insult he would be apologizing for.

"For implying you would not be able to take care of her earlier. Stan had asked you, so I should've known it was fine…but my head wasn't exactly together at the moment." Marshall was contrite and shrugged in his own defense.

Eleanor smiled and assured him, "No apology needed, Marshall. We're wired to protect those we love…even when it means we run foolishly into danger without thought to our own protection."

Marshall's gaze narrowed at her choice of words and he tried to read her expression.

She chuckled and shook her head, sitting with him at the table. "I don't try to figure it out, but I know it when I see it." she saw the uncomfortable look on his face and he dropped his eyes. "It's a rare gift, Marshall, treasure it and revel in it because it can be gone before you're ready." Her voice became slightly husky as emotions welled to the surface…thinking of her dead husband.

He took a deep breath, sighed and said, "I'd lose her as my friend and partner."

"That's her excuse, not yours. You're afraid you'd cage her." Eleanor pinned him with her gaze, unsettling him with her insight. He'd seen how Mary tried to change for Raph…tried to go against her nature because a man professed his love for her. He never wanted her to do that for him. If she couldn't be free because she knew he loved her, then she would never know. Eleanor got up from the table and gathered her things. As she was ready to go she turned to again address the pensive man at the table.

"Don't wait too long, Marshall. It may be the only thing that holds her together this time…she's been worn thin over this last year." She walked out the front door.

Marshall stepped out into the cooling night as sat down on the back steps. Mary was sitting on the ground about four feet in front of him, taking a break from the rock throwing. "You've got a pretty good arm." he stated casually.

"Raph taught me a few tricks." she softly replied, not looking at him.

They sat in silence for about ten minutes until Marshall said, "I came home."

She huffed quietly, smiled tightly as she looked at him and said, "Yeah…you did." Her face was blotchy and her eyes were red and puffy and with the fading bruises she looked like hell. "I've had time to sort through the whole mess and that's helped. Having it all come back to me at once…that was overwhelming and frightening. It was like watching a horror movie and knowing something awful was going to happen and when it did, it was going to happen to you…and you can't hide your eyes or look away." She shuddered and he forced himself to stay where he was. "Now it's more like reading a book. I can turn the pages when I want to and I've read it before so it's not startling or unexpected. It's better."

"I'm glad." was all he said, not wanting to disturb her train of thought.

"I'm a tough broad, Marshall. I know it, you know it…shit…I make sure the whole world knows it. That's the hardest part about this whole goddamn mess. It makes me feel soft…vulnerable. People have to take care of me because I'm…weak…" She hung her head with the last word and he almost got up to go over to her but she started speaking again and he stayed put. "I remember laying there…just laying there and not even being able to put up a fight. Not knowing if I **should** put up a fight. At least in Spanky's basement I could plan, strategize. I knew I was going to do something and I knew I could do it. But at Martin's…I just laid wherever they threw me. I did nothing."

He hurt for her. All her bravado, courage and strength had been stripped from her during the attack…all her control. "You didn't do nothing, Mary, you survived. In a situation that should not have been survivable…you survived." He said very softly. "You're walking around when most people would be lying in a hospital bed whimpering. You faced down a belligerent FBI agent who'd rather see you dead without batting an eye. I'm am ever amazed by your raw courage and determination. Sometimes, I wish you were a little less ferocious, I admit." He chuckled as he paused for a moment, then continued, "When the chips are down, Mare, you're one of the strongest people I know. I wouldn't have anyone else at my side."

They looked at each other for a few moments before she dropped her eyes and nodded her head with a small smile on her face, "Thank you. I needed to hear that." She levered herself up and brushed off her jeans and walked over to stand in front of him. She looked down at him and placed her hands on his shoulders as he snagged her belt loops with two fingers. "Are you sure you want to hear the whole story, Cowboy? It ain't pretty."

"It was promised to me." He replied with a grin. She shook her head in exasperation.

"You asked for it," she warned, "but I'm going to take a shower first. Throwing rocks at people's heads is hard work." She kissed him on the forehead and headed in the house. He followed into the kitchen and began to pull out ingredients to make them some dinner and coffee. As she reached the bathroom he heard her yell with irritation, "Jesus! Why doesn't anyone ever tell me when I look like shit!!" He breathed a sigh of relief. "_That's more like it!_" he decided.

**Monday 7:30 pm**

They sat on the couch and ate dinner and laughed about her comments to Fawler and decided Davis had nothing to do with it. Too new and stupid. Marshall fixed them both a cup of coffee and brought a box of Kleenex with him when he came back over.

"What…you think I'm going to cry like a baby?" she teased.

"Of course not!" he responded with mock sincerity, "They're for me…stories like this just make me weepy." She slugged him and called him a girl.

Over the next hour and a half, they both used the box of Kleenex…and another…as Mary took Marshall on the journey that was her time in Martin's house. As promised many times, she didn't leave anything out. She had to take breaks sometimes when talking about having to watch what was done to Martin, and he had to take a break or two when she told him about the parts that didn't leave any bruises. By the time she was done, they had no energy left to do anything but just sit.

She had deliberately placed herself on the opposite side of the couch from him at the beginning and he understood her need to maintain that physical separation. Now however, being emotionally, physically and mentally drained, she crawled over to him and laid her head in his lap. A simple action of complete trust that made his heart turn over. He began to stroke her hair.

"I know I'm hard to take care of." She said in a low voice, "Most of my life has been spent with people who never took the time to know me…or I never let them. Even growing up, I was treated mostly with indifference interspersed with mild concern at times. When I'm shown kindness or offered compassion, I fall apart. I guess I've always longed for it so much that even the merest glimpse is overwhelmingly wonderful. I push people away so they won't care that much…so I won't be overwhelmed. That's why you had to stay at the office today, Marshall. You know me enough to care and I needed to put my head together before we could do this." She sighed, "I'm sure that makes little to no sense…but you're used to that from me."

He thought he might need more Kleenex with that confession. Looking down at the woman lying in his lap he noted the curve of her ear and neck, the outline of her shoulder and shoulder blade under her t-shirt and realized she was delicate. This woman who can shoot her way out of most situations, kick a man's ass in thirty seconds and make him beg for mercy in sixty, and doesn't even give up when her heart stops…was breakable. At that point he knew his fate was sealed and he remembered something she had said outside.

"I don't take care of you because I think you're weak." He stated.

"No?" she asked…unsure as to where this was going and not sure she wanted to know.

"I told you once that everyday of my life I've known you has been a better day than it would've been if I hadn't known you. But I've realized something else: I can't imagine living another day of my life without you." "_If confession is good for the sou_l," he thought, "_how come I feel like I'm going to throw up?"_ "I take care of you because I love you, Mary…completely." He took a deep breath and waited.

She knew…yet hearing him say it was stunning. Knowing you're accepted into someone's heart completely brings you to your knees.

Her words were soft when they came, "My mother had one good thought in her entire life. She once told me that we had to tell our stories in order to heal. That we didn't have to tell the whole world, just one person…one person we love." She paused and knew he was holding his breath, "You're not just the one person in this whole world that I love, Marshall," she turned onto her back so she could look at him, and her legs turned to jelly, "you** are** my whole world."

He kissed her then and poured every emotion he had felt for her over that last year into it and she responded in kind. It burned hot and passionate then simmered into languid and yearning. He pulled back from her and looked at her flushed face, tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing we're in agreement on this." he teased, "it would've been a little awkward otherwise."

She chuckled, tracing lines on his forehead with her finger, "We can't tell anyone though…I don't want them to try to separate us." he knew she was referring to Stan and the Marshal Service.

"I think Stan suspects and…" he started and she jumped in at the same time, "Eleanor knows." They looked at each other in surprise and started laughing.

"I swear to god, Marshall, she's a spook!" Mary insisted. "Yeah," he agreed, "she is disconcertingly perceptive at times."

He laced the fingers of his right hand through hers and leaned back resting his head on the top of the couch, catching his breath. After a minute she said, "I have absolutely no energy left tonight except to sleep, but I want to wake up with you next to me in the morning, Marshall."

"You wouldn't find me anywhere else." he promised, smiling at her. He helped her get back to a sitting position and then said, "I have to secure the house for the night and I really need a shower. Go ahead and get yourself to bed and I'll join you when I'm done." They rose stiffly and cleared the cups and mounds of Kleenex. He headed outside and Mary shuffled back to the bedroom. After brushing her teeth she fell into bed and didn't even get the covers up before she was asleep.

Marshall joined her about forty five minutes later. He nudged her over from the center of the bed to make some room for his larger frame and she snuffled and rolled over to lay her head on his chest and throw an arm across his abdomen. She slid her right leg over the top of his and sighed. He was briefly disappointed that she had no energy left tonight as he suddenly had found some. Grinning wryly to himself, he figured her hip wasn't up for that sort of activity yet anyway. Soon….he was a patient man, and where he was right now made him happier than he had been in a very long time. He wrapped his arms around her and breathed in her scent. It was like being in a little Mary cocoon and he thought it was a very nice place.

**Tuesday 1:15am**

The phone rang and he picked it up and barked, "Fawler here."

"They're looking at you. Started about two hours after you left." the voice on the other end stated.

"That bitch must've remembered something. I can't believe Jansen didn't kill her. I should've stayed to do the job myself." Fawler was growling. "Why did she have to be a goddamn Marshal!?" he spat. He took a deep, calming breath and said flatly, "You know what to do."

The voice on the other end replied, "The place is under watch 24/7 and her partner is there most of the time."

"Do it fast. Less time for them to prepare or suspect it. They probably think we don't know yet." instructed Fawler, becoming irritated with excuses. "Just the girl…avoid collateral damage…especially collateral damage that wears a badge for god's sake."

He hung up and seethed. "God damn bitch…" she was going to pay for humiliating him today. He smiled.

***** Everybody say, Awwwww :) That's the nicest thing that will happen for a while so enjoy! Please keep reviewing and reading. *****


	18. Chapter 18

***** Some more action...some progress and some...ahem...nudge nudge! Enjoy, and I hope the steamy parts add and not detract. They had run out of excuses, you know! *****

***** Spoilers from both seasons *****

**Tuesday, 5:30 am**

She woke tangled in long legs and arms, a warm torso against her back and slow breaths tickling the side of her neck. One of his legs had nestled between her knees and his left arm was draped over her torso with his hand resting on her right breast. "_Men,_" she thought with amusement, "_even copping a feel while they sleep._" She let herself just enjoy the weight of him enveloping her for a few minutes before she could no longer ignore the ache in her right hip which had awoken her. She must've been on her side for a long period of time as Marshall's presence had prevented her from rolling onto her back. As much as she toyed with the idea of waking him for another scenic highway drive, she knew she had to address her hip.

She gently untangled herself and slid out of the bed. He moaned and shifted and mumbled with a slur, "Where ya goin', babe?" She smiled at the endearment and said softly, "It's early and I'm done sleeping. Stay in bed, nitwit." He pulled her pillow over to take her place and muttered, "O.k…" and his breathing deepened back into slumber. Mary stiffly moved into the bathroom, and then shrugged into a sweatshirt jacket as she limped to the kitchen, planning to make some coffee and read the paper. She squinted at the clock on the coffee machine…5:45 am. "Christ…that's obnoxious." she mumbled as she took the filters and coffee out of the cabinet.

Dawn's soft light was just touching her back yard and it was quiet. She got the coffee brewing and grabbed her pain meds. As she healed, she took fewer and fewer and was now just taking the prescription pills in the morning, only needing some ibuprofen towards the end of the day. Sleeping, with it's stillness, made her pelvis hurt the worst.

She filled a glass with water and shook out the pills, dropping one on the floor. "Dammit!" she swore as she bent down to get it.

The glass in the kitchen window shattered and she felt a sharp sting behind her right ear as she screamed reflexively and dropped to the floor. The picture on the wall opposite the sink also shattered and fell to the floor as the bullet meant for her head hit it instead. Her heart was pounding and she instinctively put her back against the sink cabinet to make her invisible to the shooter outside.

"Mary!" she heard Marshall bellow and she yelled back quickly, "Marshall! Stay down! They're out back!" she then added, "I need my gun!" She would've crawled out of the kitchen to meet him in the living room but she was surrounded by shattered glass and was barefoot. Trapped. She waited for Marshall, desperately listening for movement outside.

He was instantly awake with the sounds of shattering glass and Mary's scream and his weapon was out of the drawer and in his hand as his feet hit the floor. His heart was stuck in his throat and he roared, "Mary!" As he headed into the hallway he heard her instruction to stay down and assessment of the situation. He quickly ducked back into the bedroom to snag her weapon and jammed in the waistband of his pants as he duckwalked into the living room…staying low and moving fast. He couldn't see her and assumed she was hunkered down in the kitchen. As he reached the far side of the dividing counter, the back door exploded from two shotgun blasts and flew open.

Mary scrambled for the shelter of the pantry through the glass as the back door disintegrated and cursed the lack of a weapon yet again. She felt like a cornered animal. After the second blast, Marshall rose up over the counter dividing the living room from the kitchen and opened fire. Four quick, successive shots and there was a gasp and gurgle from the back steps followed by the clatter of a dropped weapon and silence. His head dropped back below counter level and he looked around the side and spotted her. "My gun!" she mouthed, holding out her hand. He slid it across the floor of broken glass. She grabbed it gratefully and checked the clip.

Eyeing the broken glass, and satisfied that Mary's position gave her enough cover to plug anyone else coming in through the back door, he scrambled to the foyer and grabbed them both a pair of shoes and the two way radio on the table. He slid the shoes to Mary as he spoke quietly into the radio, "Unknown number of shooters in the back yard. One shooter down." A static laden reply came back, "Copy that. Deploying."

Mary had her shoes on, and knowing her position offered no escape route, signaled to Marshall to watch the back door as she planned to cross over to him. He covered her as she crouched and ran swiftly over to him and dropped to the floor behind the divider. They sat shoulder to shoulder with her to his right, their usual flank position. They were breathing heavily and hyperalert. "You all right?" he asked, eyeing her. She raised an eyebrow and snapped, "Considering my brains should be all over that floor, I'm just dandy." They were both listening hard and watching all points of entry with Marshall using a chunk of glass to watch the backdoor. She felt him tense as he noticed movement outside, then relax as he heard the officers from the surveillance team. They yelled into the house, "Clear out here!" Mary and Marshall both blew out the breath they had been holding and climbed to their feet. She was shaky, but wouldn't admit it.

Marshall crouched over the dead shooter sprawled on the back steps. He admired his kill shots briefly before waiting for the expected wave of remorse. It was pointedly absent this time and the blond woman in her pajamas standing near him was the reason. Checking the man's pockets, he only found a small slip of paper with Mary's address and about two hundred dollars in twenties. "Nothing," he sneered in disgust, "but I guarantee you this wasn't your sniper. He was just the clean up man." As a rifleman himself, Marshall knew the bullet that entered the kitchen window had to have been fired from a fair distance away and up high. There was no way that shotgun boy could've traveled that distance in the short time between the two events.

He saw his partner walk slowly through the yard, surveying the buildings around her house. He had tried to keep her inside, but she lewdly told him where to shove that idea and he decided not to argue with her while she was jacked up on adrenaline. They figured whoever took the shot was long gone anyway as the whole block was crawling with cops. As she turned to study the house adjacent to hers, he noticed the blood stuck in her hair, staining the collar of her jacket and caked onto her right ear and side of her neck. "Did you get hit?" he asked curiously, standing to approach her and indicating his right ear, "You're bloody."

"What?" she replied as Marshall came over to her. She put her hand to her ear and felt the stickiness and remembered the sting from the initial shot. She probed her head behind her ear and hissed in a breath as she found the wound. "I either caught some glass or he nicked me, I'm not sure." He moved her hand and squinted at her head while moving her hair out of the way.

She grimaced and jerked her head away, "Jesus, Marshall, poke a stick in it while you're at it. Ow!"

He narrowed his eyes, shook his head in mock disgust and teased her while she swatted at his hand "You big baby. It's just a graze. You need to get it cleaned up so let's go find the doc and his bag of tricks." He was referring to the ME, who had arrived to assess the dead man. His stomach turned as he realized how close she had come to being the body the ME would carry out of here. If she hadn't dropped that pill…he shuddered. She reached over and squeezed his arm and said, "I'm fine…I'm right here." as if she could read his mind.

**Tuesday 8:00 am**

Stan, Marshall, Mary and Bobby D. sat in Mary's living room with coffee bought from the QuikMart down the street. The coffee Mary had brewed earlier had glass in it and none of them professed to be quite that tough. The CSI techs dug the bullet out of the wall in the kitchen and were setting up to determine trajectory angles in order to better pinpoint the location of the sniper. Preliminary examination of the round identified it as a .300 Win Mag, a typical type of ammunition for military grade sniper rifles. It was a professional hit.

Stan watched Mary watch the techs in the kitchen and said, "You'll need some help cleaning that up."

Mary started to giggle, rubbed the bridge of her nose and shake her head. The men exchanged worried looks until she said, "God…I was just thinking the other day that the kitchen was probably the best looking room in the house. What a cluster." Her stress level was high and she was snippy and slightly unpredictable. "How the hell did he find out, Stan? We have to track that down **now**."

"Mary, it may have had nothing to do with your recall. This hit could've been planned from the moment your ID went out on the airwaves. We don't know." Stan was as frustrated as she was and tempers were stoked all around.

She leaned forward and gripped the edge of the couch. "I just find it hard to believe this was coincidental to the asshole being in our office yesterday! I know you and Marshall started digging into him after I left…somebody saw us. He's the frickin' lead investigator on the case, Stan…he's going to see us moving around and we're going to have to find a way to hide what we're doing. Do we know **anything** more that we did yesterday?"

Dershowitz held up a hand and said in irritation, "Whoa!...wait a minute. I have a feeling I've missed a bit here. The last time I talked to you," pointing a finger at Mary, "you said you had no memories of the events except for the very beginning and you couldn't identify anyone. Then Mr. Happy over there threw me out on my ass." He indicated Marshall. "So, if you're telling me you lied to me and have been withholding information in order for your team to get a head start on this, then I'm telling you I'll march your perky little butt right down to the station right now and you can sit at look at a pretty grey wall for a while!"

Mary stood up angrily and snapped at Bobby, "I didn't lie to you, you moron! And by the way, you may want to train your officers to actually pay attention to the house they're supposed to be watching!" She mimicked the low, dimwitted voice of a male, "Gee…Rocky, I guess that guy sneaking into the backyard with a shotgun is shooting squirrels…think we should call it in?"

"Mary…" warned Marshall, eyeing her cautiously.

Bobby levered up to stand toe to toe with her and snarled, "I should've turned your file over to the feds the minute it came across my desk! I don't know why I put up with your continuous shit, Inspector! You know, you can really be an ungrateful bi…" He never finished the sentence as Stan saw murder in Mary's eyes and stood up to place himself between the two combatants and placed his hand on Bobby's chest. Marshall stood and grabbed the back of Mary's t-shirt and said "Sit. Down." as he jerked her back down onto the couch.

Dershowitz lowered himself back into the chair and Mary smacked Marshall's arm away with a scowl. Stan stood amidst them with his hands on his hips and announced, "This will get us nowhere and get you dead," he indicated Mary, "so cut it out. We're all strung tight here and we're letting it get to us." He turned to Bobby, "She didn't lie to you. We had a meet with the lead investigator of the fed's team and his pet yesterday. It triggered Mary's memories and she positively ID'd Special Agent Tom Fawler as being the ringleader of the group of men at Martin's house. That was around 1 pm yesterday, and now they're taking shots at her. I have to agree with her…coincidence seems unlikely."

Marshall jumped in, "Then we have to assume, that as careful as we were, we whispered into somebody's ear. We kept track of everyone we talked to yesterday, Bobby, and we're going to give you the list of all nonclassified personnel for your people to run. I don't think he'll be looking in your direction yet as he's sure to think the PD is a few steps behind." Dershowitz looked offended.

"The thing is, D.," interjected Mary, now calmed, "I never saw any faces because they all wore masks. But Fawler has a very distinct laugh and I'd recognize it anywhere. He also has a slight northern accent that identifies him. I can't positively ID him with a face, and as you already reminded me, who's going to believe the word of a drugged up hostage who's getting the shit kicked out of her?" She sat back and crossed her arms, "So, we have to tie him with substantial evidence besides my recall…and fast. I'm sure he's covering his tracks like mad now."

Dershowitz just shook his head as if he were trying to shuffle thoughts into place. "Nothing can be easy with you people, can it?" He sighed and pulled out his notebook. "Stan, get that list to Detective Ramos asap. She'll be the best one to start digging discreetly. Okay, Mary, tell me what you know. Names, places, even phrases that you heard that popped out. They may mean different things to me than they did to you."

She chuckled a bit and said, "I hate to say you were even remotely correct at any point in time, but I **was** high as a kite and most of what I heard was jumbled and odd. Also, I can't promise you I wasn't hallucinating at some point so pieces of information may be figments of my imagination. But here are the things I heard and saw over and over, so I think they may be accurate. The phrases "New Central Trading Company" and the name "Billy Shaw" were used a lot. Martin kept saying "the accounts are with Billy Shaw". That's what Fawler kept asking about…accounts. They're looking for the money…or the diamonds…I don't know which. The third man who left with Fawler had a tattoo on the inside of one of his wrists and I remember trying to see what it was. It was linear…maybe a word or a phrase? And this is going to sound really odd, but he smelled like curry. Not just his clothes, his skin smelled like it. Maybe an Indian or Middle Eastern guy?" She shrugged and looked at him to see if he had any questions. "If you want to try to pry some more info out, you'll have to buy a girl some lunch. I can't cook because the kitchen is a mess, Marshall won't do any housework." she deadpanned. Marshall sneered at her.

Bobby conned Chinese food out of the department and the delivery boy never saw past the end of the driveway as security was tight. Mary was sure her neighbors spent many hours of their day putting real estate agents into their speed dials. Stan went back to the office and Marshall set up his laptop and hooked some interesting hardware into Mary's DSL. She and Bobby ran through the night at Martin's for two hours until she couldn't think of another detail to tell him. He was really curious about her escape and the death of the agent, but she just shook her head and said she couldn't remember whether he was dead before or after Martin and that she had woken up laying in the pool of blood and instinctively knew to get out.

Marshall overheard her telling that piece to Dershowitz and knew she was lying through her teeth. She was very clear on the details last night. She had played dead after the last round of injuries and was dragged and tossed next to Martin by Jansen. He proceeded to cut Martin's throat and then turned to her. She surprised him and turned the knife on him and scrambled out. He pulled the knife out of his neck and managed to catch her twice before blood loss got the best of him and she was able to finally get away. Marshall figured she just didn't want to get pinned for deed. He didn't blame her at all.

By mid afternoon, they were all tired and needing a break. The days usually don't start with an adrenaline high by 5:45 am, so their bodies were starting to fight back. Bobby left, Mary showered and Marshall stretched out on the couch for a nap. Stan called about an hour later and said he was bringing supper and information.

**Tuesday 6:00 pm**

They were eating pizza and drinking beer. Marshall was satisfied with the security detail on the house…a combo of Marshals and PD this time…so he had ceased being jumpy and could enjoy the meal. He remembered what he had heard Mary say earlier and asked, "Mare…why did you lie to Dershowitz about killing the agent?"

She swallowed her bite and looked at him like he was an idiot, "If I told him I remembered sticking that knife in Jansen's neck, he'd wonder why my prints weren't on it. I'm not going to feed you and Stan to him. Let them try to figure out what the hell happened." She grabbed another slice.

Marshall honestly hadn't thought of that as the reason why she lied. She was covering **his** ass, not hers. Many people thought he was the brains of the pair, and he'd like to think that was true most of the time, but sometimes Mary was one step ahead of him and he was glad. Her volatile temper and impulsiveness often overshadowed her keen perception and fearlessness to think outside the box. He recalled moments from their past when she amazed him…putting a smiley face sign on a microphone so a sociophobic witness would testify, downloading **his** witnesses data files onto her flashdrive to protect **her** witness, digging out info to take the wind out of O'Connell's sails. She usually jumped in without thinking things through, but given the time to massage the facts, she was extraordinarily bright. The leaps her brain would make sometimes even gave him a headache. Case in point, the coins in the picture two days ago. He never saw that. "_Of course,_" he thought slyly, "_she's also really good at playing dumb so I'll do the work."_

After dinner, they looked through the info Eleanor and Stan had gathered through the day, but found nothing new. Stan finally introduced the topic he had been avoiding, "Mary, you aren't safe here anymore. We need to move you." The words feel into a silent room.

She was staring into space and the men watched her curiously. They could see the wheels turning. Her eyes finally snapped to Stan and she said with certainty and utter seriousness, "I'm not running. I don't care what reasons you give and I don't care if they're even valid. If Fawler wants to bring this little party to me, then let him bring it. I'll be here. In the last year I've been kidnapped, chained up, almost raped, almost arrested, bugged, shot and now tortured and stalked. I'm done, gentlemen. Here I sit and here I stay and if you don't want to be around when the shit hits the fan…then don't let the door hit your ass on the way out." Her gaze dared them to object.

"_Son of a bitch,_" realized Marshall, "_she's dead serious and there will be no argument._" The was no question as to his decision, "It's a good day to sit and enjoy a shit sandwich." he said with a grin. She looked at him with gratitude and relief.

Stan knew when he was beat and sighed, "You two are going to get me fired. All right, we'll keep the detail as tight as we can and maybe it'll work for us. He's got to either keep throwing things at you until he runs out of ammo, or we'll tie him to the deal and take him out." He got up and gathered his things. "Mary, here's the fast and hard rule: you go where Marshall goes. If he comes to work, you do too…If he goes to the store, you go…hell, if he showers, you shower…ummm…o.k. maybe that wasn't quite what I meant." His Inspectors looked uncomfortable and were avoiding looking at each other…he was hoping that didn't mean what he thought it probably did. He decided not to think about it and ask Eleanor later as he headed out the door.

Marshall spoke first and said wickedly, "He may be on to something there…" looking at her sideways. She blushed and he felt somehow victorious.

"You really are a slut, you know…and a tease." she taunted him.

"Excuse me? A tease? How do you figure that?" he was provoking her but was also curious as to what she was thinking.

She looked at him with a gleam in her eye, "Twice now, you've kissed me until I thought I was going to melt, and neither time have you followed through." Her belly was tight and she felt slightly flushed.

He took a slightly shaky breath and his body was chanting "_go Marshall, go Marshall…_" He responded in a cool and calm tone, "Well I do believe the first time we were standing in plain sight of the taxi driver on a street corner, and the second time we got some company. I hardly think circumstances beyond my control should count against me."

She stood up and turned off the lamp by the couch, aware of the possibility of prying eyes, and walked over to stand in front of him as he sat on the couch. Climbing into his lap she straddled his hips and settled down onto him with her hands on the back of the couch. She heard him suck in a breath and he grasped her waist with his hands. She could feel the heat of him through her thin sweat pants and her arms trembled slightly. She looked at him longingly and said in a husky voice, "You know what they say…the third time's the charm…and I doubt circumstances will save you now." Her body was heavy with want and desire, but she waited.

He moved his hands to place them on her knees. He leaned forward and blew air out softly over her collarbone, up the side of her neck and onto the lobe of her ear, then slowly drew that lobe into his mouth and sucked on it gently. As if her brain didn't white out with that, his hands traveled up her thighs with his breath and his thumbs slowly caressed between her thighs as he enjoyed her earlobe. She squirmed on his lap and felt him respond through his jeans. He groaned into her ear in short, panted phrases, the timing matching the thrust of her hips against his as his thumbs massaged her, "I want you so badly…want to taste you…want to touch you…be next to you…be in you." He tilted his head up and captured her lips with his and she leaned into the kiss, continuing to brace herself with her hands on the back of the couch.

Mary could no longer see and the only sound she heard was Marshall's voice in her ear as her body was inflamed by his touch, his breath in her ear and the heat of his body through her pants. Then fuel was added to the fire as he found her mouth with his. The events of the day, combined with the insane desire she felt for this man and the fact that it had been too long since her body had had release pushed her to the brink and she knew she was going to explode sitting on his lap. Her kiss became more desperate and she whimpered into his mouth.

He felt her movements become more urgent and matched her, gripping her thighs tightly to press her against him, keeping his thumbs moving along the dampened area of her sweatpants. Her whimpers nearly drove him over the edge himself and as she suddenly convulsed against him and threw her head back in a long, low moan he found himself following her down that off ramp and firmly gripped her bottom with both hands and pulled her against him hard as he sought his own release. He cursed low and lewdly, panting.

She fell against him, her head on his shoulder and gently kissed the pounding pulse in his neck. He let his head fall back onto the couch and rubbed the outside of her thigh slowly with one hand. Both of them just breathing.

"I was wrong." she gasped out after a minute.

"Oh? 'Bout what?" he blurrily replied in barely more than a rumble.

"You don't need a warning sign…you need a billboard." She whispered. There was nothing left of her…no strength. All she could do was breathe and feel the combined pounding of their hearts. She was sweaty and achy, her groin was throbbing and her pants were a mess, but she had never felt so…right.

"Well…maybe you'll have to hire a blimp after we get around to doing this with our clothes **off**." he joked with a chuckle. She giggled into his neck.

They untangled after a bit and decided to test Stan's theory about the shower. Under the steamy water, they explored each other for the first time with no hurry. Marshall reveling in her beauty and Mary awed by his strength. Damp bodies moved to the bed and he pulled her on top of him, aware of her hip. She oh so slowly slid onto him and watched his face as pleasure, pain and desire rippled across it. He filled her completely, and as she began to move her universe consisted solely of the man beneath her, pleasuring him as her body became molten. Their gasps and curses came faster and louder until he gave an incomprehensible shout and she keened, "Oh my god…oh god." They both jerked and shuddered until Mary's sweat slicked body lay across his and he didn't even have the strength to raise a hand off the bed.

He felt her whisper into his chest, "Two blimps…a balloon…and a skywriter."

He wrapped his arms around her and rumbled into her hair, "Don't pull out all the stops yet, my love…when your hip heals **I** get to be on top. I have plans for you."

"Tease!" she said definitively.

She didn't quite move over as she just slid off of him and they fell asleep like that, neither concerned with the blankets or the mess they left on each other. These two people who blast their way through life had found a zone of peace…just wrapped together and content.

***** That was fun! I figured there was no way Mary was going to hide from Fawler...she wants to throw down and beat the crap out of him. Hopefully she'll get her chance. This was my first shot at writing a sex scene. Not so easy!! Hope you thought it was in character. Please keep reading and reviewing! *****


	19. Chapter 19

***** A noticeable drop in my readers...sad. I hope it wasn't because they shagged ;) The story continues to unfold with M/M back to their usual antics. This one's lighter and flufflier but still fun! No spoilers. *****

**Wednesday 8:00 am**

The elevator doors opened and Mary stalked out with a look of exasperation on her face, Marshall following behind her in mid conversation…apparently with himself.

"Marshall, for godssake," she said, "what part of 'I don't give a rat's ass about the aerodynamics of a mattress' was unclear?" She threw her hands into the air and keyed open the office door.

Marshall continued talking as if she had not spoken, "Most people assume the object lifts off the roof of the vehicle because the wind picks it up. What really happens is that the airflow over the top of the mattress becomes slowed and creates a low pressure region…this is called the Bernoulli Principle…thus allowing air flowing beneath the object to try to fill the low pressure region and lifting the object with it. Voila…flight!" He smiled as he "flew" one of his hands through the air.

Eleanor looked up and seemed excited about Marshall's topic, inserting her own opinion, "Oh, aerodynamics! John and I used to build and fly the large, remote controlled airplanes and I found the principles of airflow and buoyancy so interesting. I thought about getting my pilot's license someday."

Mary looked at her in frustration as she helped herself to some coffee and poured a cup for Marshall, "Oh god…don't encourage him! He's been at this for the last half an hour after we saw a VW Beetle just about use the highway as a runway with a mattress strapped to its roof."

"What's the tally, anyway?" asked Eleanor.

"Mattresses: 23, Ladders: 33" replied Marshall as he powered up his computer and gratefully took the coffee from Mary.

Mary was looking between them, confused, "What the hell are you talking about now?"

Eleanor replied, "The radio station keeps a running tally of ladders and mattresses on the roads for the year. It's a contest and the winner gets some prize…tickets or something." She was squinting at her computer screen and continued, "Don't you listen to the radio?"

"I try not to" Mary said distractedly as she was sorting through phone messages and trying to prioritize them, "I prefer CDs…less bullshit."

"Yeah," interjected Marshall dryly, "she listens to the kind that makes you think your head may possibly twist off your body on its own. Likes to play them loud too. Then she'll put the windows down so you can truly experience being blown away."

"Two reasons for that…" began Mary as she shot him a nasty look, "one: it drowns you out, and two: it drowns you out." To prove her point, she pulled out her iPod, stuck her earbuds in and cranked up the volume. She rocked her head to the music that was audible even to Marshall and Eleanor and gave him a smug smile as she went back to work.

"That can't be good for her ears." Eleanor said, looking at Mary dubiously.

Marshall barked a laugh, "When have you ever known Mary to do something that was good for her?" His brain sent him a newsflash, "_She loves __**you.**_" He decided that was definitely good for her. They had awoken earlier than usual, which lead to another round of lovemaking and he was feeling pretty darn satisfied. There was no tension or awkwardness…it was easy and he was glad. The fact that she was just as contrary as usual was comforting. He smiled to himself.

Eleanor eyed Mary as she quietly said to Marshall, "So…did you two talk?"

Marshall's hands stilled over his keyboard as he looked up to check if Mary was paying attention…she wasn't…then back down at his screen. "There were topics introduced and…resolution occurred." Try as he might, he could not stop the slow blush that crept up his neck.

Eleanor's eyebrows shot up and she thought, "_Oh my! Jumped right into that fire, did we?_" She wondered if the bedroom had survived what she assumed would only have been called a maelstrom. "Good," she said out loud, nodding serenely, "I thought you were going to have to paste it on a billboard for her before she'd have known."

Marshall had taken a drink of his coffee, but at Eleanor's choice of words, choked and managed to spit half a mouthful onto his desk and was overcome with a coughing fit. Eleanor grabbed some napkins and hurried over to help him save his papers and patted him on the back ineffectively.

Mary, noticing the ruckus, pulled one earphone out and said, "What the hell is going on? What did you do to him, you ninny?" She noticed the the coffee on his desk and picked up her own cup and looked in it suspiciously, then wheeled backward to pour it into the plant. Shaking her head, she placed the earphone back and stated, "Marshall, if you're going to die, please finish your weekly reports so I don't have to pick up your slack after you're gone. Jesus…I work with the two Stooges," and as Stan walked into the office revised her line, "make that three."

**Wednesday 11:45 am**

The morning was spent in a flurry of activity. Mary and Marshall tried to catch up on their backlog of witness needs, Eleanor was following up on leads from her contacts at the FBI in addition to fielding calls from various agencies wanting the latest updates on the case and Stan spent most of the morning explaining the situation to Headquarters once again and requisitioning extra manpower for surveillance on Mary's house. Marshall could hear snippets of the conversation from Stan's office and knew he was having to explain Mary's reluctance to move yet again… "Yes, she is aware of the peril…yes, she was injured and understands their intent…no, I cannot forcefully move her…have you met Mary?"

Other than Dershowitz, they had not informed anyone else of their knowledge regarding Tom Fawler, and Bobby had promised to keep his mouth closed too. Detective Ramos did not find any suspicious activity or occurrences surrounding the names on the list of people they talked to and by lunchtime they were again stymied and frustrated. Unable to pursue the FBI agent without knowing where the leak was, they poured over crime scene photos yet again and Marshall said his IT contacts told him they'd have some info on the phone numbers and encrypted email accounts by the next morning.

Marshall and Mary sat outside on the patio for lunch, each picking out of the other's box from the deli downstairs. She ate all his olives and he helped himself to her croutons. It never occurred to them to order their own meals with items they liked, a testament to their symbiotic nature.

"Did the geeks and freaks give you any idea of what they linked those numbers to?" she asked, drinking her tea.

He rolled his eyes, "Nah…they like to envision themselves as super sleuths and keep all the good info to deliver in dramatic fashion." He was sure she was hiding croutons under her napkin and reached for it.

She smacked his hand and pulled the treasure out of his reach. "Gee," she replied sarcastically, "I can't think of anyone else who does that. You braniac types think you're better than the rest of us mortals."

"Well," he drawled as he stretched dramatically, "I seem to recall a number of times you have referred to me as a god during the years we've known each other. Got to keep up my image."

She threw him a disgusted look as she gave up all pretense of sharing and just pulled his lunch over to her side. "Let me remind you that those very infrequent occurrences involved caffeine attached to your body in some way...They never put enough damn olives in here…Jesus, is there some sort of shortage?" She had taken apart the wrap and now the rest of his lunch resembled a sad salad.

"Are you going to abuse my lunch all day, or do you think I could attempt to eat the rest of it sometime soon." he dryly questioned her. "If you want more olives, order extra olives next time."

"Why would I do that?" She looked puzzled, "It's not my damn lunch." He snatched it back with a sigh and fended off her reach. She relented and went back to abusing her own meal with equal gusto. He noted she was quiet and looked up.

She now had a pensive look on her face, her fork frozen in mid air and he could see the cogs turning in her brain as she slowly repeated a name, "Billy Shaw….Shaw…" the name Martin had kept saying while being questioned. "Why do I think I've seen that name?..." She was totally oblivious to anything but her thoughts and Marshall just waited to see where she was going. She continued her monologue, "He said the accounts were with Billy Shaw…William Shaw!" She snapped back to the present and pierced him with her gaze and said, "Son of a bitch!"

She jumped up and charged inside and he was two steps behind her. He could tell she was charged with excitement and just knew something significant had occurred to her. "Stan!" she yelled as she entered the office, "get out here!" She flew into the conference room, grabbed the pictures of the crime scene and pulled one out victoriously, holding it out to the two men with a triumphant smile.

Stan and Marshall looked at each other and Stan said under his breath, "Did you put something in her tea?"

"Look at the picture, you morons! What was significant about this picture?" she encouraged them to remember looking at the picture of the door and bookshelves that had led them to the coin collection the other night.

Marshall was looking at her in that way he had whenever his train of thought was derailed, shrugged and guessed, "The coin collection and coinage books?"

She handed him the magnifying glass, "Almost there, Zippy…read me the titles and the authors." She stood there cockily with her arms crossed, her head tilted and eyebrows raised. Eleanor had come over to stand in the doorway to see what was going on.

He followed along and looked through the glass at the books, "Lost Collection of Kings; Coins of the Ancient World by Ambrose Steelan, Early European Coinage by Carol Penny, Displaying your Coin Collection by William Shaw, …" he looked at her in awe and she gave a flourished bow. Stan just looked dumbfounded.

She was grinning from ear to ear and announced, "Gentlemen…and Lady, I do believe we have found Billy Shaw!"

Marshall smiled and shook his head in wonder, "Wow…when stuff gets in your head and rattles around for a while, you just never know what's going to come out. Although, I think you just topped the geeks and freaks for dramatic delivery."

She winked at him and tossed back her hair, "Who's the goddess now, baby?...Now, let's get over to Martin's house."

She flew out of the conference room, grabbed her jacket and was headed to the elevator doors before Stan or Marshall could get in a word. As the doors opened, Marshall trotted over and slipped in with her, barely making it before the doors closed again. He swooped down on her and kissed her thoroughly before releasing her. She looked him surprised and flushed, "What was **that** for?" He smiled at her and replied, "For being brilliant as well as beautiful…now stop gloating." She punched him and continued to gloat anyway.

**Wednesday 1:00 pm**

They pulled up to Martin's house and surveyed the surroundings. Mary was anxious, but didn't want to outwardly show it. Remembering how swift and devastating the memories from the event had been, she really hoped being in the house would not undo her again. She was determined to hold it together no matter what and really just wished for it to be a non-event.

Of course, she forgot that Marshall could read her mind. He spoke softly from the seat next to her, "I'll be right next to you. We can leave whenever you need to." He could feel her tension from across the seat and there was a slightly hunted look in her eyes. He didn't want to put her through a bad experience again.

She glared at him, "I'm perfectly fine." He raised his eyebrows and continued to stare at her. "…ish." she conceded slightly under the pressure of his gaze. He tilted his head a little and squinted. She threw in the towel, "Fine…if you must know I'm freaking out just a little bit. I don't want to wig out on your ass."

He got a sly, evil look on his face and replied as he slid out of the car, "I thought you did that last night. I liked it!"

She shivered with his response and gave him points for knowing how to diffuse some tension. Her body was sore today in new spots that hadn't been sore for too long. The man was definitely more than he seemed and her libido was like a kid in a candy store. She was smiling as she hopped out onto the sidewalk. She had the sense that they were being watched, but not seeing anyone or anything untoward, she shook it off as nerves.

The police tape remained over the door and windows and Marshall took his pocket knife and cut through to grant them access. They had brought booties and gloves to avoid disturbing old evidence or tracking in anything new. Mary walked slowly through the door, and when her eyes adjusted to the lighting, the whole experience took on a 3-D character. She could match events to every blood pool and track of boot prints and her skin crawled with the smell. Seeing what was left of the pool of blood she had lain in and the tracks she had made while being pursued by the dying agent caused her shoulders to tense as she remembered the desperation and anger she had felt each time he had caught her. She was standing still and staring as her brain sorted and catalogued memories and she didn't hear Marshall call her name. He reached over and placed his hand on her shoulder and she almost drew her weapon on him as she startled so badly.

He put both hands in front of him non-threateningly and said in a calm voice, "Maybe we should go." He looked concerned.

She shook it off and disagreed, "No…no, just a lot to think about all at once. It's o.k…like jumping into a really cold pool. Takes a few minutes for your brain to stop screaming and you accept the sensation." Her legs were a bit wobbly, so she slowly turned around and crouched down in front of the bookshelves to recover her dignity as she looked for the William Shaw book. It was right where it should've been and she pulled it out.

She and Marshall placed the book on the coffee table and began to look through it page by page. Unfortunately, the book was well over two hundred pages long and they weren't even exactly sure of what to look for. "We're going to have to take it with us." she said with a shrug. They hadn't wanted to remove anything from the scene, but they certainly weren't going to leave it here now that they knew what it may contain. Mary placed it in an evidence bag to keep the identity of the item out of sight of any prying eyes. Her phone rang and she picked it up, "Mary here."

"Mary, Mary so contrary…nothing like revisiting a night like no other, eh?" it was Fawler.

Her eyes went flat as she responded, and Marshall turned to look at her as he heard her speak, "Well, hello Tim, so glad you decided to call! Still looking for that date?" she covered the receiver and mouthed to a now angry Marshall, "he knows we're here". Marshall drew his weapon and began to survey the outside of the house discreetly from the windows as he moved Mary to a safer place in the room. He was very worried about another sniper attack.

"It's Tom, and what are you doing over there my dear? See anything you like…or want to try again?" his voice contained barely controlled anger.

"Aw…you're so sweet, Todd, but as much as I so appreciated your care of me the other night, we just came for a quick look around to see if there was anything we missed that we could use to nail you." She was thinking fast, wanting to cast out a line with a nice, juicy bit of bait for him. If Marshall knew what she was thinking, he would've taped her mouth shut with duct tape. He was busy trying to find the best way out of the house which provided the most cover. She continued the conversation sweetly, "I wanted to let you know that you suck at interrogation techniques, Tad. Martin told you everything you wanted to know, but you were too stupid to realize it. It's a good thing I have the brains in this relationship, isn't is sweetie?" Marshall turned to her with a snarl and made a cutting motion against his own neck to signal her to shut up. She held up a hand to make him wait and tilted the phone so he would listen in with her. He bent to hear.

"What did you find, bitch?" Fawler snapped at her, all pretense of civility gone.

"I found Billy Shaw, of course. All those accounts…all for me. You'll have to ask me nicely if I'll share." She was truly enjoying herself despite the knot in her gut and Marshall's heated glare. "You know where to find me, Ted." and with that hung up.

She continued to ward off her partner with her hand and immediately dialed Stan.

"It's Mary. Fawler just contacted my cell and saw us in the house. I've let him know I have something he wants. See what lights up in the network because he's going to make some calls pretty soon." Stan said something back and Mary's brow furrowed as she snapped, "What? Shit…he's covering tracks the hard way. Thanks Stan."

Marshall grabbed her collar and was leading her towards the front door. She knew he was angry by the way he manhandled her and tried to tell him what Stan had told her. "Dammit, Marshall! Wait a minute." She twisted out of his grip as she said, "Special Agent Farid Palagiri was found shot execution style in his own garage this morning. He has a tattoo of bamboo on the inside of his left wrist."

Marshall was so angry with her right now that he barely heard what she just said. He thought her actions were rash and she didn't even consult with him before she did it. Just another example of Mary operating off the cuff. Even though he understood why she did it, he didn't appreciate being left out of the plan and let her know it. "All the more reason to get you out of here, you fool." He was spitting out his words and his eyes flashed. "You may choose to deal casually with your life, Mare, but I don't . My job is to protect you and you just made it really difficult without consulting me first. Do you realize I **will** put myself in front of a bullet for you without a second thought? Think about that before you pull another stupid stunt like you just did. I need time to do a little prep work before we escalate this."

Mary knew he was right, but also knew she had to do what she did at that moment. "Marshall, I had to hit hard right then when he wasn't expecting it. He wanted me to be scared and run and I came out fighting with a left hook he never saw coming. He's mad now, and that'll make him stupid." She was staring at him willing him to understand. "We have time to prep…he's got to make a new plan since the first attempt failed. If I knew I was going to do it I would've told you. The omission wasn't purposeful."

He blew out his breath because her points were valid. Didn't make him feel any better about her safety though. "You promised to stay safe." he reminded her.

She smiled crookedly, "I'm with you, numbnuts…how much safer could I possibly be?" She saw his eyes smile with gratitude and amusement. He took a deep breath, opened the front door and checked for threats from its cover, then manhandled her right into the truck as she protested the whole way.

They strategized on their way home, checking in with Stan for any updates on activity in Fawler's camp. They also gave Bobby D. a courtesy call to fill him in on Mary's upping of the ante. They got home safely and began to pour over the coin book in earnest. On page 172, Marshall spotted some faint writing on the bottom edge of a picture of a coin display. The magnifying glass showed them the prize…six, 9 digit numbers that were certainly not a part of the original display plans. Eleanor got the fax from them and she gleefully began her magic.

**Wednesday 7:00 pm**

The partners drew out floor plans and thought up scenarios, each time virtually placing themselves into the floor plans to understand how it would play out. Knowing where each would be in different scenarios was essential to staying alive. They didn't want to drop their guard, so sex was out. Too easy to become completely oblivious to your surroundings and get dead. They decided to share the watch with one on the couch while the other slept in Jinx's room. Brandi's room was too far back in the house and Mary's room would be a target area. Mary watched first and kissed Marshall goodnight with a undertone of desperation and he replied in kind. The bait had been thrown out and now they waited for their prey.

***** oooo...Fawler's gonna get it! Mary's going to give Marshall a coronary too. Please read read read and send me my favorite treat...reviews!! *****


	20. Chapter 20

***** Transitioning...gotta set up the final chapters. A mild season 2 spoiler...but mostly fun action. *****

**Thursday 4:00 pm**

They headed out the doors of the office building and walked to Marshall's truck. Mary was still trying to loop together the random facts they had managed to dig up this afternoon. "O.k., so the New Central Trading Company is a real entity, however, Wohelm Fraast who is supposedly the CEO shows up nowhere. Martin's cell phone has outgoing calls to a disconnected number that traces back to an abandoned building in San Diego's marina district. The address of that building ties to another dummy company owned by Fraast…who doesn't exist." She was shaking her head in frustration and continued with a snort, "But the real question is…Who's on first?" Mary thought she was going to be certifiably insane by the end of this day. After sleeping so poorly last night and being on edge all day knowing Fawler was out there plotting, her brain was already misfiring and then the random information showing up on their radar this afternoon just added to the confusion.

They leaned against the car as Marshall took up the string of thoughts dropped off by Mary. "Don't forget, we have six account numbers that aren't bank accounts…they're IP addresses." He grinned remembering how thrilled the geeks were when they figured those out, "And we have an encrypted email address that turned out to be an underground online auction site for smuggled goods. Do you want to bet those IP addresses held the info on the diamond locations and those were what they were selling on the auction site?" He raised his eyebrow at her.

"Right," she snickered at him, "like I'll ever make another bet with you! I may have finally learned my lesson." Lost in thought again, she slowly paced in front of him tapping her lips with her index finger. "We know New Central Trading was one of the favorites for the company cleaning the smuggled diamonds for resale. Maybe Jansen found out where they were located, found Martin through the coin connection and realized he had experience with smuggling, they set up a plan to rip off the Trading Company and auction the diamonds themselves, and Fraast got wind of it and came after them? It's just not tying into Fawler or the FBI anywhere." She had stopped and put her hand on her hips, sighing.

Marshal clasped his fingers behind his neck and gazed upwards, thinking about Mary's theory and trying to shove square pegs into round holes.

Mary sensed the change in her partner an instant before he pounced. He slammed into her and drove her to the ground with the word, "Down!" The driver's side mirror on Marshall's truck shattered and the whole apparatus fell to the pavement. She's not sure how he did it, but Marshall managed to pick her up off the ground and move her between the front of the car next to them and the wall of the building without ever coming out of a crouch. He had her folded up in front of him with his hand on the back of her head and she was pinned. She struggled to raise her head and draw her weapon.

"Stop struggling, Mary, and keep your goddamn head down" he ground out as he was desperately trying to find a way to get her inside without exposing them to the shooter again. He didn't think they would shoot at him, but they'd take the next shot they could get at his partner. As he stood by the truck and gazed up a minute ago, he spotted the flash of sunlight off metal where there should be none…atop an apartment building down the street…and that flash bobbed slightly. He reacted instinctively to protect her.

"I need to get my gun!" She hissed at him, adrenaline overriding common sense.

"You can't shoot him from here!" he replied, inching her towards the edge of this car and contemplating the chance of making the foot long gap to the next car in safety. "Get your cell out and call Stan. Tell him what's going on and we'll have so many officers out here in a minute that you'll have plenty of cover." A second shot suddenly hit the wall about one foot above them and they were struck with stinging shards of brink and mortar. "Go!" he urged and hustled her to the next car while they had that few seconds it took for the sniper to retrain on the target. She made the call.

"Stan! We're taking fire in the parking lot. Sniper." was all she said but knew it would be sufficient.

There was no further to go as the three parking spaces between the door and their position were handicapped spots and currently empty. The shooter would pick her off for sure if they tried to make that distance. He could feel her pulse pounding in her neck as he kept a firm hand on the back of it to keep her head down. She was still testing his grip and trying to raise her head to look around and he knew he could not allow the shooter to even catch a glimpse of that blonde hair. He didn't dare let her out from under him and kept her hips between his knees and her back against his chest. There was always a chance she'd dart out impulsively and the thought of seeing her take a bullet in front him made him want to vomit.

After what seemed like hours but was likely only two or three minutes, Stan and at least seven officers in vests swarmed out of the building, two with rifles of their own, and set up in the lot to counter the sniper's attempt. Marshall pointed out the target building and the men with the scopes set up. One eyed the shooter right away and barked, "He's running!" Marshall stood up swiftly, bringing Mary with him and shoved her into Stan saying, "Get her inside!" before taking off a dead run with the other men to see if they could catch the culprit.

Stan wisely kept a firm grip on Mary's arm as she made several attempts to follow Marshall. "He'll be fine, Mary! No one's shooting at them, they're just giving chase…settle down and get your ass inside!" They swiftly moved through the doors and then into the elevators to head upstairs to the office. Once on that floor, they were higher that the surrounding buildings and Stan felt confident a clear shot could not be had. Mary pulled away from him in the elevator and was slowing calming herself down from the adrenaline high. She paced from one end of the room to the other, blowing out her breath and shaking out her arms. Eleanor was shocked by the anger and ferocity on her face. "Jesus! It's one thing to take a shot at me, but don't take a shot at my partner!" She was referring to the second bullet that hit right above Marshall's head while they were pinned down. Slightly lower and…she shuddered. "Where is he?" she demanded after ten minutes had passed. As if on cue, her cell rang and she saw it was Marshall.

"You better be alive, asshole!" she barked into the phone, relief sweeping through her body and her eyes welling up a bit with tears. She blinked them rapidly away before Stan or Eleanor could see them.

"Well…it would be tricky to dial the phone if I were dead, wouldn't it?" he said slowly as if she was dim. "You all right?" he asked in the same calm rhythm, but she could hear the undertone of concern.

"I am now." She stated firmly. "Did you catch him?"

"No, he was too quick and had too much of a head start. We found the rifle, though. He tried to toss it in the sewer but it caught on the grate and Bruce was able to grab it." Marshall filled her in. "They're hoping to get a casing or two from the stand, but he probably took them. Hopefully he left some prints behind somewhere on the weapon. I'm standing in front of Kaldi's," he randomly segued referring to a local coffee shop, "you want me to get you a cup on my way back?"

She couldn't believe he would be thinking about coffee and snapped, "You're an idiot. Get your ass back here." She hung up and growled at the phone. Relaying Marshall's update to Stan and Eleanor, Mary headed over to sit at her desk. Now that she knew Marshall was fine, the adrenaline was wearing off quickly and her legs were starting to shake as usual. Time to sit down and regroup.

Marshall sauntered in about twenty minutes later with four coffee drinks and a bag that was full of goodies. Mary looked at him and the coffee incredulously and he shrugged and defended himself automatically, "What? I was serious. Coffee seems like a good idea. I got you a muffin too." He knew she would get the shakes after being under fire and always needed to eat soon afterwards or get sick to her stomach. The coffees were handed out to Eleanor and Stan, and then Marshall brought Mary her items and turned his back to the rest of the office as he put them on her desk. Their eyes met and the communication was swift, clear and silent. His asked hers if she was really o.k. and apologized for leaving her behind…hers told his thank you for offering your life for mine and that he was forgiven since he came back alive. Promises for later…

Stan hung up the phone and stated, "The boys downstairs said the ammo was the same as at Mary's house, .300 Win Mag, so we're likely dealing with the same guy." They figured that was the case anyway, but it was a bit relieving to know there wasn't more than one sniper gunning for her.

"I got you, you bastard!" announced Eleanor suddenly and uncharacteristically. They all looked at her like she had grown another head. She was smiling ferally at her computer screen and it took her a moment to notice the dead silence in the room.

"What kind of coffee did **she** get?" asked Mary.

Eleanor looked at the Marshals staring at her and said, "I just couldn't stand the fact that we could find absolutely nothing on Wohelm Fraast. It's an odd name, but then so is Marshall Mann," the tall man wrinkled his nose at her, "so I tossed it into a program I have that will run all the anagrams for the phrase." She mimicked Mary's pose from the day before, "What do you think popped out?" they were still staring. She turned the computer screen towards them and the three curious people came over to look. Highlighted towards the bottom of the list of phrases on the screen was one name: Thomas Fawler.

Mary smiled at her and said, "I could just kiss you."

Eleanor got a pained look on her face and backed away saying, "No, thank you. I still have flashbacks from the one time you did do that." She was referring to the time she had brought the ballistics evidence to Mary at the police station that cleared Stan from an old murder rap. "Nice." sneered Mary.

Mary saw the strange look Marshall had on his face and smacked him in the arm, "Don't even think about it, Pervis."

He tried to look innocent, and Eleanor just shook her head at him and sighed.

Mary was back at her desk and rocking in her chair staring at the ceiling. "What do you think? Do we have enough to play "Let's make a deal" with Mr. Fawler? Hmmm…we have accounts that contain locations of missing diamond shipments that he wants, and we could let him think he'd get those if he stopped trying to kill me." Her gaze lowered to find Marshall staring at her intently. He knew what she was thinking and didn't like it already. She was going to set herself out as bait and he knew she was right. The man wanted his diamonds and he wanted her to keep quiet. It would be a perfect solution.

"Where are we going to do it, Mare?" he asked, resigned to the fact. They began to plan.

***** I love it when Marshall gets really mad...he swears and it's fun. I could just see Eleanor having a anagram program and of course we knew Mary was going to hang her ass out for bait! Please, please keep reading and write those reviews :) Y'all have been gREAT! *****


	21. Chapter 21

***** Long chapter with lots to do! Watch out for the zesty parts...definitely M rated :) Mary gets to be a little dark and dangerous...yay! *****

**Thursday 5:45 pm**

Mary considered Marshall's question thoroughly. If they were going to lure Fawler in, where would be the best place? "Martin's house." she said with a slow nod of her head. "He knows we don't have any surveillance there, he's familiar with the territory, and he'll be able to see me approach and not wonder if I've brought anyone with me."

"You can't possibly think you're going in there alone. The man already tried to kill you once…and was fairly effective with the prep work if you'll remember." Marshall was intense and his expression was stony. Her idea grated against every protective instinct he harbored for her. This was when it was difficult. When loving her fought with knowing who she was and who she had to be. Mary hurled herself into her destiny and he had to let her, but he'd make sure she knew he'd be there at the end to pick up the pieces. "_I just wish the pieces didn't always need bandages._" He sighed internally.

Stan agreed with him, "It's a good idea, but trying to work out the tactical details to sending you in alone is going to be a nightmare. The man is a trained agent and he'd kill you before any of us would even be able to get close." He was rubbing his head and pacing slowly, "I don't know, Mary…we may just have to hunker down and wait for the evidence trail to bulk up a bit. We can still move you for your safety."

"I already told you what I think about that, Stan." She dismissed that idea again. "The thing is, Martin was quirky…hell, he was paranoid. He never opened the door, he never answered the phone on the first set of rings, he always started his car remotely. I even had to say the "code word" every time I called him so he'd know it was me for sure. He was so paranoid that he built a 'panic room'…like in that movie. A secret room where he could barricade himself with no chance of outside entry if he felt threatened. Obviously, Fawler and his team managed to either surprise him or he was expecting them." She was watching the men listen to her narrative and looking for signs of comprehension. Marshall caught on first and his lips moved in a sly grin.

"I'm going to be in the panic room. Fawler doesn't know it's there so will never know I'm there." He was starting to like this crazy idea. "I just need to be in there before he starts scouting the place. Do you know where it is, Mare?"

"Oh yeah. He was quite proud of it and showed it to me when it was finished. It'll be perfect." She was excited to see Marshall start to plan with her. She didn't want to be fighting him on this. She knew his concern for her grew every hour, especially with the attempts on her life, and watching him control his emotions was draining her. She couldn't let this go…had to finish it. As she told the men a few days before, she wasn't going to run and she just wanted to be able to take a breath and regroup. She was tired of being tired.

Stan was nodding now…warming to the idea also. "So how do you want to play it? Remember, we don't actually have the information from those IP addresses…just the fact that that's what they are. You'll be working purely on supposition here and if calls your bluff…" he let that hang out there.

"I come from a family of criminals, Stan. Surely, it was only a matter of time before I went bad." She was teasing now and formulating a story as she related it, staring at the ceiling and spinning slowly in her chair, "It's all taken its toll and I'm tired of being the one doing all the work…putting the bad guys away and taking a beating…for nothing. I didn't sign up to be a target. Plus, now the FBI and Albuquerque PD want to pin Jansen's murder on me. They say it may not have been self defense, and that it's more likely I was a co-conspirator. My status with them is iffy anyway. I'll give him the IP addresses and the locations of the diamonds for a cut…and I'll disappear. I certainly know how to make someone disappear." She looked at the other people in the office with a predatory gleam in her eye, knowing the set up would be the most fun. Marshall smiled back at her in a way that sent shivers down her spine. He was as delightfully crazy as she was.

Eleanor dropped the hint in her contacts' ears that the FBI was going to try to fry Mary for collusion and the murder of Peter Jansen as Marshall updated Dershowitz and asked him to circulate the rumor. It had to be established before Mary talked to Fawler because they knew he'd have to believe her story. Mary wasn't worried about her reputation...it was probably better than what most people thought about her anyway. The geeks and freaks were utterly delighted to be invited to the party as they were sought out to find a bug for Mary that wouldn't be found in a search. As Fawler was quite experienced with surveillance equipment, they knew he would not only quickly search the house, but Mary as well.

Scott, or as Mary like to call him… "The Head Geek"…showed the team their nifty, new toy that they had developed for Vice. It was a 10mm wide x 5 cm long piece of tape with a highly sensitive listening chip embedded within its length. Flexible and sticky, it could be placed anywhere on the subjects body and did not come off with sweat or water exposure. Not taking the chance that Fawler wouldn't go overboard in his attempt to search her, she decided to wrap the bug around her ponytail holder. If she'd learned nothing else from her job in WITSEC, she'd learned that things in plain sight are easily overlooked. Both Marshall and Stan had a receiver and they'd have the whole conversation on tape. She just needed Fawler to implicate himself and they'd be done.

**Thursday 7:20 pm**

Within an hour and a half of devising the plan, she was home in her living room and calling Fawler. Marshall and Stan were sitting quietly, listening in on the speaker phone. They had been dropped off a few blocks over and took a back route into her place, just in case there were watchers reporting to Fawler. They wanted him to think she was home alone tonight. The tension was palpable and Mary's nerves were frayed. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. "_This is just like having fake phone sex to lure in suspects._" she reassured herself, thinking of the times she had used her naughty girl persona in just that manner, "_he's just another schmuck who needs to be taken down a few notches._" She dialed the number.

Fawler answered in a sneering tone, "Mary Shannon…I was just thinking of you."

She smiled as she replied sweetly, "Really? Well, don't keep a girl waiting, what were you thinking about?"

"I'm just so sorry I missed you this afternoon. My intentions were to get to you exactly on time but your partner spoiled the party." he replied.

Mary saw Marshall's eyes narrow and decided she wasn't going to be able to look at him while she did this. She could read his feelings for her as they played out on his face and found herself reacting to what she saw. She shifted in her seat and stared at the picture on the wall instead. She had picked up a pen and was tilting and twirling it through her fingers and over her knuckles. It was a trick a boyfriend in college had taught her and was mindless enough to be automatic, yet tactile enough to keep from completely zoning out. Marshall knew it meant she wanted to only focus on the conversation, not on her surroundings or the people in it. He tried to remain still as to not distract her.

"Well, Tom," this time she used his correct name. She wanted him to start to think she was serious. "I'd like to schedule another party with you…this time just you and me. You see, I'm starting to think that information I told you about would be better shared between the two of us. People are starting to talk and the conversation is not to my liking."

Fawler chuckled with his reply, "Oh Mary, Mary, Mary. If you think I'm going to believe that you want to strike a deal with me, you must think I'm a very stupid man."

Mary was not discouraged, "I really don't give a flying rat's ass if you believe anything I say, Tom. All I can tell you are the facts. One: I have the information on the accounts you so desperately want, Two: I know those accounts contain the location of the diamonds missing from the shipments, Three: I know the feebs and the PD want to pin some of this on me, and Four: I have some extra special information about you that I'll gladly throw them to put them on your trail. Any of this sound…interesting?" Her face had changed now. Eyes flat and narrowed, she looked slightly feral…on the hunt. Waiting for her prey to get close enough to snag. Marshall felt his breathing match hers. Stan thanked the gods for the thousandth time that Mary was on his side.

There was silence on Fawler's end as he evaluated Mary's statement. He spoke suddenly, "I have other ways to find those accounts, Mary, and I highly doubt you have any information on me that I haven't found out about yet. You're right about one thing though, they do want to pin it on you. You'll be getting some visitors tomorrow and I hope you enjoy your time in jail. This has been entertaining, but I'm going to say good bye now."

Mary quickly interjected, "Oh…I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Fraast. And you'll be the one with visitors tomorrow." She hung up the phone.

Stan just about passed out, "What the hell did you do that for?! God, Mary…you have to work these people a little bit. You can't just give up at the first objection!"

Mary just smiled at him and watched Marshall wink at her. Her phone rang and she smiled wider.

"I'm not going to dither about this, Fawler. Your cover was so weak our idiot secretary was the one who figured you out." She was taunting him gently, "She told me and I was supposed to tell my partner and my boss but I just couldn't when I figured out I had everything I needed to end your career and put a needle in your arm. I'm giving you the chance to work a little something out with me. One chance. You want your diamonds and I want some compensation for once. I also want you off my back…seems simple." The pen twirled steadily as she was intent on her words.

They heard him take a deep breath. "You're a conniving little bitch, Shannon, but I have a really hard time believing you'd operate behind your team…especially your keeper. You can't tell me you'd pull the wool over his eyes."

Mary continued in her role, never breaking stride, "He doesn't know me as well as he thinks. None of them do, Tom. We share that. Maintaining the façade of loyalty and trust while trying to find a way to finally get what's due to us. He'll do what I tell him and he only knows what I want him to. It's time for me to stop carrying their loads. I didn't sign up to be their whipping girl or your target practice." She had interjected a sneer to her voice that was so sincere it nearly broke Marshall's heart. He had to remember she was acting, otherwise her words would tear him apart. She remained facing away from him and he was glad.

"Does he know how good you taste?" Fawlers statement was uttered crudely in an attempt to throw her off her game. Mary's only reaction was to drop the pen she was twirling and that simple action caused Marshall to growl low in his throat. "I think about that a lot, Mary."

She was flippant when she answered, but her hands were shaking now with anger, "Whatever gets you through the night, Fawler. You want to sit down with me or not. Ten seconds to decide and then this conversation is over and you go to jail without passing go." She waited.

Marshall had developed a new level of hatred for the man. The signs were subtle and there was no change to her voice or posture, but the loss of control of that pen and the tremors he could see in her hands signaled a reaction to Fawler's statement that hit hard. She had never been riled by a man's lewd suggestions or bothered by inappropriate advances and he knew there was more behind the question asked by the man on the phone than was obvious. She had left something out of her story, he was sure, and he wanted to know why. He felt hurt and angry by the omission.

"When and where?" the agent snapped, irritated that he was now put into this position of acquiescence.

She smiled slightly, having won. "I thought Martin's house would be best. No people, no wires…we can relive our time together. I'll be there in two hours." She hung up.

She turned to the two men and said, "Step into my parlor, said the spider to the fly. Stan, I know you want to brief Bobby. Let me know what the plan is there. Marshall, we need to get you to Martin's well before that two hour mark approaches. I imagine he'll be there at least an hour before hand to assure himself it's not a set-up." The look on Marshall's face was confusing her. He looked irritated and angry and she wasn't sure why. She was excited about her accomplishment and thought he'd share in that.

Stan came over to put his hands on her shoulders, "Mary, you be careful. The man is a killer and an experienced agent and I can't stress that enough. Marshall will be there, but you'll be sitting right in front of the bastard. Watch yourself." She nodded and he headed to the back door. He called back "Marshall, keep her safe."

Mary turned to her partner and asked, "What's your problem? I know you're not one hundred percent thrilled about this, but you look pissed and I don't know why." She replayed the discussion and her brow furrowed, "Jesus, Marshall, you wouldn't think I actually meant those things I said? I can assure you, it was all bullshit!"

He looked hurt and said, "Your reaction to his question wasn't bullshit, Mare. What didn't you tell me about that night?"

Realization dawned and she understood his anger. He thought she had held back, kept him from knowing about something hurtful to her when she was supposed to be letting him in. Only this man would be wounded by not knowing about something that wounded her.

"There were gaps, Marshall…periods of time I still didn't remember even after Fawler's visit. He filled in a gap tonight, that's all. I didn't keep it from you because I didn't know about it. It surprised me and that's why reacted the way I did." Her eyes met his with a request for understanding and she got up to walk over to him. She crouched down and placed her hands on his knees. "I'm not keeping anything from you…I promised I wouldn't."

"Tell me about it." he softly requested, taking her right hand and left fingertips and gently massaging them.

She shrugged one shoulder, distracted by his large hand enveloping hers and the warmth of his fingers, "Not really much to tell. A lot of groping…juvenile, obnoxious shit," her face was scrunched up in disgust, "Like the doc said, no sex." She saw the flash of anger in his eyes, but was focused on what came after…understanding.

"You know this idea sucks, right?" he gently questioned her sanity yet again, but with amusement in his eyes.

"It's the best I've got," she tilted her head as she regarded him, "and I know you'll be there to save my sorry ass if it goes bad. I couldn't do this without you, Marshall."

He smiled at her, reveling in her uncharacteristic sentimentality. He gently pulled her into his lap and suggested, "After this project is put to bed, what say you and I go back to just hiding squirrely witnesses and shooting random people for a while?"

She draped her arms around his neck and settled into him, "That sounds like the best idea I've heard in a while. God…it would be nice to heal up beyond the scab stage before getting more wounds for once." She joked, but it had the undertone of weariness that wasn't lost on him.

He reached up to stroke her cheek and ran his thumb over her lower lip and she bent her head and took it into her mouth, suckling it and gazing at him. She saw his eyes dilate, heard his breath hitch and felt him respond to her through his jeans. She continued to swirl her tongue around his thumb suggestively, pulling it back into her mouth and offering him a low purr.

He was instantly infused with heat as she drew him into her mouth and his body responded so aggressively he grunted. He was trapped by her gaze and then had to watch her lips and tongue as she used them to illicit sensations he never expected. He wanted to touch her, but only had access to her back the way they were sitting and shifted in frustration and need.

She sensed his need to increase contact with her and grinned mischieviously, "Do you want to step into my parlor, Mr. Fly?" she huskily asked as she began to unbutton her blouse. His eyes were fixed on her fingers as they slowly revealed the skin underneath. "Oh yes…I would like that very much…" he whispered, "unless…of course…you're a spider who bites the head off her mate." Her bra clasped in front and she deftly undid it with one hand, moving her clothing to the sides and revealing her breasts. She saw him swallow and his eyes were alight.

He reached for her and she caught his hand again, this time drawing his index finger into her mouth slowly while he moaned. "I don't bite," she murmured, then lightly scraped her teeth along the length of his finger, "I only nibble." She placed his hand on her breast with a sigh of pleasure then tangled her fingers in his hair as he brought his mouth to her smooth skin. His tongue teased the nipple of one breast while his fingers gently pinched the other, and Mary's body reacted with pulses of pleasure that reached her core. "Oh my god, Marshall…more…please…." her words were uneven and full of desire and drove him to stand and slide her feet onto the floor. He moved his mouth to hers and cupped her buttocks, gently rocking her into him and growling, "Bedroom…now." She smiled and took his hand and led him into the back room.

She turned him and tripped him lightly so he ended up sitting on the edge of the bed and stepped back. Slowly she shrugged out of her undone blouse and bra, becoming more aroused as she watched him gaze lustfully at her and open his mouth to breathe faster. "Do you like to look at me?" she asked teasingly as she ran her hands over her breasts.

"Yes…" he whispered, aching for the feel of her.

She undid her pants and slid them off her legs then slowly stepped out of her panties and stood naked before him. She heard him sigh, "Oh god, Mary, you're so beautiful…" as she stepped towards him.

Marshall strained so hard against his jeans he thought he was going to go insane. The woman in front of him was merciless and he let her tease him to the point of madness because he couldn't stop looking at her…wanting her. She finally stood right in front him and he could smell her desire as she said, "Touch me."

He touched her everywhere and currents of pleasure ran through his body as she moaned and writhed and whimpered. She stopped him suddenly and was breathing heavily as she caught his hands with her uninjured one and said, "My turn." Placing his hands at his side with the unspoken command to keep them there, she turned her attention to his mouth as she undid his buckle and zipper on his jeans. Kissing him longingly, she parted his lips with her tongue as her hands released him to her touch. Her hands and tongue mimicked each other and soon Marshall was groaning and shifting his weight to work his pants further off his hips so she could reach more of him. She broke the kiss and saw that his eyes were black with desire and bent down to help him ease his jeans to his knees. Pushing him back down on the edge of the bed, she purred up to him, "No biting…just nibbles." then showed him how maddening those nibbles could be as she took him into her mouth.

He was dying…there was no other way to describe the white, liquid sensation of pure need and pleasure coursing through his veins as Mary's lips tasted him. He swore…and swore some more because he couldn't help himself. She was killing him and he wanted her to do it over and over again.

He had to have her and roughly reached down to lift her onto his lap, sliding into her swiftly…she gasped and threw her head back and he groaned. Their movements were fast and frenzied and she begged, ultimately climaxing together quickly as their desire had already reached a feverish level and shuddering in each others arms. He quickly decided that the biggest problem with making love sitting up was that complete lack of blood flow to your head afterwards. His vision faded and he rolled to his right side to lie down, taking her with him without landing her on her injured hip. She was limp and panting still and he had to smile in satisfaction. He felt somehow pleased that he was able to reduce this strong, fierce and stubborn woman to the breathless and trembling creature beside him. That she gave herself over utterly and completely to him and trusted him to protect her while she was vulnerable. "You're pretty proud of yourself, aren't you?" she murmured, chuckling as she gazed at him while catching her breath.

He smiled in amazement and shook his head as he brushed the hair back from her face and teased, "It's nice to know I can take you on a wild ride and watch you get blown away."

She smiled and raised one eyebrow and taunted him, "**I** was driving until you took me on that little detour." She rolled to her back and stretched, causing him to run his eyes down the length of her.

He placed his hand on her abdomen and absently traced the scar extending from her sternum to her pubic bone, knowing she had a matching one half that length on her back. He joked back, "It was a little place I'd been to before and knew you'd love it. Hope you don't mind."

"Please…detour anytime." she assured him. Marshall was the only person she had ever allowed to touch her scars. It soothed her somehow and she didn't understand it. She didn't understand most of what this man did to her and had quit trying to figure it out some time ago. She rolled to face him, her eyes now slightly sad as she said, "You have to go now. It's getting late and I have to get ready too." She moved quickly off the bed as he reached for her, not wanted to prolong the time she had to think about how much she wanted to stay lying there next to him.

He understood her need to disconnect, but the abruptness was disappointing nonetheless. He sat to finish undressing with plans for a quick shower and said, "You'll have to tell me how to get into the panic room and what I'll be looking at in there." Letting her have the timing of the situation under her control.

Mary went into the bathroom to quickly wash up and then began to dress in a simple pair of black jeans and black t-shirt for the meet. "The room is through the back of the linen closet across from the guest bathroom. The switch for the door is on the backside of the left end of the clothing rod as you face the back wall. You can disable that switch once you're in the room so no one can enter after you're in. There's a charged laptop in the room with a feed from a small "nanny cam" that gives you a limited view of the front room. I don't know if you'll be able to see Fawler and me, but I'll let you know where we are through the audio. Once he implicates himself, come on out and join the party." She grinned at him as she headed out the bedroom door to complete getting ready in the front room and let him have the bathroom for his shower.

He ran scenarios through his head as his showered, trying to think of every possibility that could occur. Unfortunately, the possibility of Mary being killed before he could reach her was real. "_Get a grip, Marshall, that's always been a possibility in your line of work and you've never shied away from it before._" he told himself firmly. He knew he trusted her…trusted her instincts and her skill…and he had to play his part perfectly in order for her to do her job. Their teamwork had always been impeccable and he set his mind to the task at hand in order to extend that streak.

By 8:15 he was ready to walk out the back door and make his way to the ride that would take him to Martin's neighborhood. He and Mary checked the reception to his transmitter from the wire in her hair band repeatedly until they were sure there would be no garbled signals or shorts. He double checked the layout of Martin's house with her and they talked about communicating dangerous situations or if she felt compromised. Finally, there was nothing left to say and he had to leave. He tangled both fists in her hair and kissed her ferociously, she responding in kind. As he pulled away he whispered, "Promise to stay safe." She nodded and replied, "If you promise to come home." He kissed her forehead in agreement as he ducked into the night.

**Thursday, 9:20 pm**

As Mary pulled up to Martin's house, she thought, "_One week ago at this time this nightmare had begun. It's time to end it._" She was determined to bring Fawler down tonight and fully immersed in her role. Thoughts of Marshall and her injuries were pushed to the very back of her mind and she was thinking cold and calculating thoughts. One of the perks of her job…and she thought it was a perk…was that in associating with criminals and learning their lifestyles, she could think like one. She could assume that self serving, arrogant and sadistic character they all shared. Make it work for her in a situation like this. Not a woman to follow the rules anyway, crossing into immoral territory was not as distasteful to her as it would be to others. She didn't like it…but she could do it convincingly.

Mary knew he would be waiting for her in the house. That's what she would've done in his place. He had likely searched the house and the grounds thoroughly, gathered any information concerning her story from his informants and would have a weapon at ready. She carried her sidearm and ankle piece as usual. He would be suspicious if she was unarmed. She had no way of knowing if Marshall was in place and could only rely on her gut to say he was. Stan and Bobby had parked around the corner a block away ten minutes earlier and let her know they were listening. There was nothing left to wait for and she turned off the engine and slid out, walking up to the house.

Her weapon was out and she gently pushed open the front door, slipping inside when she could fit. There was a faint rustle to her right and she drew on the figure materializing in the dim light. Fawler.

They stood there face to face with the other's weapon pointed at their heads, breathing heavily with fear. Both wanted to pull the trigger, both knew they couldn't yet.

"Put down your weapon!" Fawler snarled at her.

"Not a chance." She replied with venom, continuing to steadily keep him targeted. She had to keep the upper hand right off and knew he wouldn't pull the trigger. She was right.

He sneered, "Bitch." And reluctantly holstered his weapon. She did the same and turned her back on him to walk towards the dining area.

"Hold it," he stated as he followed her, "I need to make sure you aren't wearing a wire."

She turned back to him as if distracted and replied, "Of course. Have at it." and held her arms out to her side and assumed the wider stance of someone about to be searched.

Fawler was taken aback slightly. He had expected some protest, but Mary seemed almost nonchalant about the whole thing. "_Well,_" he thought nastily, "_let's see how she likes my search methods._"

His hands searched everywhere and lingered entirely too long in some places. She stood completely still and watched him with narrowed eyes, controlling her breathing. Her insides curled with disgust as he felt along the underwire of her bra and she finally drolled, "Are you nearly done, Tom, I'm bored and you're slow and time is ticking away here."

It pissed him off and he slapped her across the face. She sucker punched him and he doubled over with a gasp as she grabbed a fistful of his hair and hissed in his ear. "You've got no cronies to save you or drugs to keep me off your ass tonight, you stain. You don't know what I'm capable of." Shoving him away from her she went over to stand near the dining room window and gazed out. The slap had hurt and she was pissed because the bruise to her face had just started to fade…now it would be ugly again.

Marshall had placed himself comfortably in the panic room about an hour before. There was a chair and a blanket, some snacks and bottled water and the laptop. He disabled the entry way, but Fawler had never discovered the switch or suspected there was another person already in Martin's house. He had a view of the front door, half the living room and most of the dining room from the "nanny cam" and watched Fawler stand to one side of the door to ambush Mary as she entered. It would've worried him except he knew she'd be expecting it. He was tense anyway as she whispered to him that she was coming in and his gut clenched as the two people in the house stood with murderous intentions and weapons drawn to each other's heads. Proud of her for dominating the first exchange, there was no rest for his anxiety as she submitted to Fawler's search. She never flinched as the bastard's hands touched and groped her, taking liberties Marshall swore to break limbs for. Even before they had been lovers, Marshall would've maimed a man who touched her that way. Now it was even harder to watch. He smiled as she insulted his efforts then nearly gave himself away when she was slapped. It wasn't a gentle tap, but a full blow and he was impressed at her ability to shake it off quickly and retaliate with a punch he could see her put her full weight behind. The words she hissed into Fawler's ear caused his grin to change to one of malice and anticipation. The woman was good, and he knew her well enough to know it wasn't all acting. He hoped the foreplay was out of the way and that the rest of the meet would be less eventful.

Fawler struggled to catch his breath and restore his dignity. He moved Mary into his crazy bitch category and decided this wasn't going to be a cake walk after all. "I could kill you right now" he stated with intent.

"You could've killed me five minutes ago too, but you didn't and you won't now." She turned to look at him while she spoke, arms crossed over her chest. "You want your diamonds and your freedom and I want my deal, so let's cut the foreplay and get down to business." She amused herself internally knowing Marshall would've referred to the previous actions the same way.

"Tell me what you want." He stated, not willing to give up any information himself yet.

She smiled at him tightly, "I want fifty percent of the profit from the diamond auction for two of the shipments up front. The third is entirely yours. It's simple, like I promised."

He looked at her in disbelief and huffed, "Simple?...you think that's simple? I don't have any diamonds and I don't have any money from an auction."

She knew he was trying to play dumb, keeping from saying anything incriminating in case this was a set-up. "I know how to hide people, Tom, so I know to hide myself. If I walk out this door without a deal set up I'll disappear. You'll never find me. But what will be found is an email to my partner telling him all about your ventures as CEO of New Central Trading Company…about your torture of Martin Swartz and my positive ID…your alter ego as Mr. Wohelm Fraast. Even if you can convince on or two people that none of it is true, my people will never believe it and they'll dig and dig until they've uprooted every lie you've ever told and every deed you've ever done." She let that hang in the air as she walked slowly over to the opposite of the window just to change her stance and move. "You really only have three choices: Shoot me right now and run like hell. Your career is over and you'll never rest…or you can shoot yourself. Saves me the trouble and I still walk out of here free and clear…or you can work with me and make a deal. That last choice is the only one that keeps that email from being sent and it's also the only one that gets your diamonds back." Her stomach was churning as she delivered the speech.

Marshall sat back with a smile. The bravado was out and waving like a banner in a breeze.

Fawler was not going to go easily. He wasn't used to being outfoxed, outwitted or put into a defensive position and it stuck in his craw. The woman was certifiable and he no longer thought she was setting him up. Her words dripped venom and he knew her reputation for being impulsive and rash. He also couldn't chance the real possibility of an email with that information in it. He decided to revise his options and play along for a while.

"Tell me about the accounts." he submitted.

She wanted to dance. "They're IP addresses. Each one corresponds to a file displaying the location of the stolen diamonds. Tell me about how the auction is payed."

He warily replied, thinking up a strategy, "The buyers login and only communicate with a series of numbers. This allows the bidding information to be anonymous and not tracked easily by legal agencies. I now understand the highest bidder receives the IP address and can view the file and retrieve their goods."

"Hmm. Interesting." She replied to his description. "I still don't understand why Martin was keeping those IPs a secret. He sure pulled the wool over your eyes." She chuckled to add sting to the statement.

"Martin was an idiot. He thought he'd sell those addresses to the South Africans. Apparently, he still maintained a connection even after disappearing to Alburquerque. He was tougher than I thought, even with you as a lamb." Fawler was irritated.

Mary had a thought and voiced it, "You know, Tom, torturing me probably worked against you with Martin. He likely would've sang for you pretty quickly if I hadn't been there…he wasn't a particularly brave man. He once told me that when he watched me do something it gave him confidence to do it himself. Too bad for you that he watched me outlast your efforts." She was saddened again by the loss of her witness.

She refocused on Fawler and reeled in the deal, "So all that's left is for you to tell me where and when I can collect my share, and I'll give you those addresses. Oh…and I'll delete that file from my computer tomorrow before I leave. She had pushed away from the window sill and stood facing him near the door.

He moved to stand in front of the bookshelves about four feet in front of her. His plan was in place and he just had to draw her in. "You can use my cell phone number as a combination to a large locker facility next to the New Central Trading Company building in San Diego. Locker 511. The money is already there and I'll tell my people to just leave your share, I just need the diamonds to deliver." He held out his hand as he saw her pull a slip of paper from her pocket.

She knew if he took the paper the deal was done, and handed it to him. He lunged, grabbed her wrist and pulled the taser from behind the books on the shelves. She used his momentum against him and let him pull her into him to knock him off balance and he wasn't able to fully utilize the weapon. The contacts slid off of her arm as he fired and she lost feeling to her left arm while he was jolted by the same shock since she still was in contact with his body. They went to the floor and she yelled, "Marshall!" as she landed on top of Fawler. Rolling swiftly to her side, she reached for her weapon as Fawler triggered the taser again and the shock hit her lower back. She lay there stunned and unable to move as the agent fumbled at his gun and pointed it at the back of her head unsteadily. Mary closed her eyes and silently apologized to Marshall. The shot was loud in the small house and she waited to feel pain.

Marshall hadn't like the stance of the FBI agent as he moved to stand in front of the bookshelves and left the panic room at that time. As he moved silently down the hallway the scuffle ensued and Mary shouted his name. Clearing the doorway, he saw Fawler slowly raise his weapon to aim at his still partner and he fired instinctively and accurately. One shot was all he needed and Tom Fawler now only needed an alias to place on his tombstone. He moved swiftly to Mary's side as the front door flew open allowing entry for Dershowitz and Stan.

Bobby assessed the scene quickly and said, "Is she o.k?" as he watched Marshall reach his partner on the ground. Stan was calling the incident in and requesting an ambulance.

Marshall's pulse was pounding, but he was sure there had been no other shot and replied, "I think so…just tased." As he kneeled down to look at her she slowly opened her eyes and he saw relief and surprise.

"Not…dead." She managed to croak out as the rewiring of her body's circuitry by the shock made it difficult to speak coherently. She was completely incapable of moving her large muscles and felt as though she was paralyzed.

"No," he said with a smile, "You're not dead. That wasn't in the plan, if you'll remember." He was checking her pulse and looking for signs of any other injury as they waited for the ambulance. "You have to go to the hospital this time, Mare. The taser can cause arrhythmias and seizures sometimes and I want you watched." Her occasional twitches and shudders disturbed him and he gathered her up to hold to his chest as they waited.

She attempted to communicate again, "Get…him?" She really wanted to hug him but other than her eyes, her body continued to thwart her efforts at command.

He eyed Fawler's body with contempt and snarled, "Oh yeah…I got him."

She gave him a small, twitchy smile and uttered, "Know a…secret." He leaned down and whispered, "What?" with a grin.

"I love…bad ass…lawman." Her eyes twinkled and his heart ached.

***** Hope you liked this one...please keep reading. There's a little more of the story before it loosed its grip on me. Boy...those steamy bits are hard to write...but fun! Please review...I'm addicted to the reviews :) *****


	22. Chapter 22

***** The muse has been satisfied and this will be the final chapter. It ended the way I wanted and I'm glad! No spoilers and there's zesty parts so be aware! *****

The universe relented and Mary's life slowly righted itself event by event. Within a week of wrapping up Martin's case she felt nearly healed and her bruises were gone. Marshall was still very careful of her pelvis despite her protests to the contrary and promised her pleasures to come. Brandi and Peter had returned from their trip and Brandi announced she was moving into her boyfriend's house. Mary gleefully helped her pack and within two days had converted her little sister's room back into a guest room. Little did anyone know that her only guest never used it.

Jinx called from New York four days after Brandi left and had amazingly gotten a speaking role in an off Broadway play which ran for six months. She was staying there and asked Mary to ship some of her belongings to her. Mary made Marshall help her pack almost all of her mother's things and sent them out to NYC by the next evening. The following day she played hooky and called Marshall at work during lunchtime.

She asked him what he was doing and he drawled, "Your work, apparently. So…are you coming in today?"

"Guess what I'm wearing." she teased him and he tried not to rise to the bait.

"A wrinkled t-shirt and some of my pajama pants?" he dryly replied and noted Eleanor tilt her head as she heard his answer. He turned so she couldn't see him and remembered to keep his voice down.

Mary's voice dropped half an octave and she chuckled, "Much better…I only seem to be wearing a drop of tequila that's slowly rolling down between my breasts and is now resting on my stomach. Mmmmm…want to come lick it off?"

Marshall's mouth went completely dry and he had no idea how he would be able to escape the office without embarrassing himself at that moment. "Where are you?" he growled.

"Lying outside under the gazebo by the pool." she purred.

"Naked??" he asked, unbelieving and also louder that intended. Eleanor smirked as she tried to listen to his side of the conversation.

"Completely," she said then gasped, "oops, spilled a little more and, ooooo, it stings a little bit if I spill it there. You could lick that off too…I always like it when you put your tongue there."

Marshall was speechless as visions of Mary, nakedness and tequila swirled through his mind in a lust filled haze. He swallowed a few times and tried not to drop the phone. Finally regaining his voice as Mary began to make some distinctively R rated sounds on the other end he ground out, "Ten minutes." He stood up and grabbed his jacket to deliberately hold in front of him and said to Eleanor in as calm a voice as possible, "I've got to check on a situation that just came up. I don't know how long it'll take, so just let Stan know…I'll be back." and bolted out the door.

"Sure, Inspector…don't rush." Eleanor responded with a smile. "_My, oh my_," she thought, amused, "_I do believe that boy just went on a booty call. Good girl!" _she gave mental praise to Mary to make Marshall bolt out that door so quickly and awkwardly.

Marshall never did make it back to work and not a drop of tequila went to waste.

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Two weeks later Mary had to physically drag him off of the boyfriend of one of his witnesses when he found out the dirtbag had hit the witness' six year old daughter hard enough to leave a bruise.

Luckily, the little girl was at school when the ugly scene occurred. The witness had called Marshall, who responded immediately and Mary was already with him. He nearly pulled the screen door off the hinges as he stormed inside when the sounds of a shouting match could be heard in the house. He never stopped to ask a question and plowed right into the man, shoving him up against a wall. Mary moved the witness safely out of the way and yelled at Marshall to stop before any punches were thrown. The stupid boyfriend decided to land a fist on the side of Marshall's head and all hell broke loose.

Marshall Mann had a particular hatred for those who abused small children.

Marshall was fast and vicious and Mary grabbed him from behind in a head lock in order to haul him off the pathetic scum now on the ground before he inflicted permanent damage. It scared her because not only was there a good chance she would get hurt, she didn't like to see her partner out of control. He wore his demeanor like he wore his badge, proudly and very well maintained. She had to stop him before he did something that he would feel ashamed about and most likely demand punitive action from Stan.

He fought her for a few minutes and she barely was able to hang on and suffered a few bruises of her own before he regained control of his senses and she let him go. The silence in the room was broken by their heavy breathing and the cursing of the man on the floor. "Get out. Never come back, because if I see you again I'll just wait 'til there's no one to save you." Marshall snarled at the man who wisely bolted out the door and took off at a run.

His witness was crying and Mary soothed her and distracted her from the event by helping her prepare lunch for her daughter who would be home from school soon. She kept one eye on her partner and watched him slowly pull the pieces together and reassemble the dignified and calm man he needed to be. He gently reminded his witness to let him screen the men she chose to date before allowing them in her house and around her daughter. The woman was grateful and hugged Marshall and thanked him profusely as they left.

They sat in the truck and he rested his forehead on his hands on the steering wheel. She sat quietly in the passenger seat and waited. He would talk when he was ready and she knew not to pry.

"I'm sorry," he began in a tired voice, "that was inexcusable and I'm sorry you got dragged into it."

She matched his somber tone as she reassured him, "It was understandable. I know why you did it, but I was worried it would come back to haunt you if I'd let you continue."

He was silent again for a few minutes before he began to speak, "My Grandfather use to beat us regularly when we visited and my parents were gone." his quiet offering of secrets stilled her and she just stared as he continued with his head still on his hands. "My little brother and I. We were young, just six and eight, and sometimes there was no rhyme or reason for it. Just a bitter, mean old man who took his anger out on us. I remember thanking God for killing him when he died of a heart attack the year I turned ten. I was sure I'd go to Hell for that, but it was probably better than his house. Grant and I never told a soul…ever."

Mary felt tears on her face and she whispered, "It should never be like that. I'm sorry, Marshall." She realized she was the first person he had ever shared this with and she was honored and humbled.

He turned his head to look at her and marveled at this wonderful woman who would cry for the little boy he had been. "You needed to know and I wanted to tell you." His eyes were seeking reassurance and acceptance. Not knowing if this would drive her away. She slid over and ran her hand through his hair and kissed his forehead, resting her head on the edge of the steering wheel inches away from his and meeting his gaze. "It made you the man you are today…and I treasure that man." she stated simply and saw the tension leave his eyes and he was Marshall again.

Later that evening, he whined teasingly and complained that she had been too rough with him during the fight. She pounced and threatened to show him what rough really was and they tumbled into bed laughing and wrestling.

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She let him keep some pajamas in her pajama drawer and he bought her a pair of Godzilla slippers to keep his Scooby Doo slippers company at his house.

Neither knew the other had secret conversations with Eleanor regarding their relationship. Eleanor kept the strictest confidence and delighted in the game. Stan remained voluntarily clueless.

Mary discovered that Marshall had a mouth on him and would swear like a drunken biker when aroused. It thrilled her. Marshall found that she was fiendishly ticklish in a certain spot and would giggle like a maniacal ten year old when he nibbled on it. It made him melt.

Eight weeks had flown by in a flurry of work and mutual discovery. They were both excited when Stan told them they had been assigned to assist with a large operation involving the Gulf Coast Regional Fugitive Task Force in New Orleans the next week.

"Well," she said to him after Stan briefed them, "we have been taking care of squirrely witnesses, guess it's time to go shoot some random people." She was referring to the plan Marshall had suggested right before meeting Fawler at Martin's house.

"Did you know," drawled Marshall, and Mary was already rolling her eyes with those three words, "the chance of being hit by a random bullet increases 400 fold on New Years Eve? The ATF tracked the number of unintentional bullet wounds across the country on New Years Eve were surprised by….." his words faded to music as she put her headphones on and glared him back to his own desk. Marshall was undeterred and just shifted the focus of his conversation to Eleanor who was happy to have an in depth discussion of the terminal velocity of stray bullet shot straight into the air.

**New Orleans – nine weeks after Martin's death**

Marshall's eyes took in the activity in the command center and he was pleased to see a number of Marshals and DEA agents he had worked with before over the years. There were plenty of new faces, some of them so new he wondered if he should start carding people. "_God, when did I get old?"_ he chuckled to himself as he strode over to the breakfast cart hoping there was something edible left in the picked over baskets. He didn't usually eat much before an operation, but the heavy rain was delaying the start time as the airport had cancelled flights and the supplier's plane was currently stuck in Miami. When they received word from the FAA that the plane left Miami the clock on this end would start ticking. Meanwhile, he decided to eat something rather than take the chance of being distractingly hungry later.

He was filling a plate with fruit and muffins, automatically adding a donut or two for Mary, when a younger DEA agent joined him at the cart and introduced himself.

"Todd LaBlaine," he said, shaking Marshall's hand, "wanted to meet one of you Marshal types to see who I'm running with today." The agent began to fill his own plate with donuts, bacon and biscuits with gravy. Marshall hoped he wasn't standing next to the guy later when he puked.

"Marshall Mann from the Albuquerque office." offered the tall man. "You haven't participated in a multidisciplinary task force before?"

"Nothing on this scale…with this many agencies." Todd looked at Marshall and grinned, "Really…Marshal Marshall?" He saw the older man's eyes narrow and prudently dropped the subject. Just then, Marshall saw the young man's eyes focus on something across the room as his eyebrows shot up. "And, oh boy, am I now glad I came. That there's a prime piece of real estate and I'm wondering how I'm gonna get me some land."

Marshall followed LaBlaine's gaze and immediately saw the prize. Mary. She was standing toward the middle of the auditorium getting her transmitter wired and flirting with the young tech as she helped him run the wire through her belt. She hadn't put on her outer gear yet and was gloriously lovely in her black cammo pants and white tank top. Her hair was still loose and the heat and high humidity of the gulf coast had caused the ends to curl slightly near her chin. Marshall could just look at her all day and smiled as his eyes followed the toned muscles of her shoulders and arms, the curve of her breasts and hips...he shook himself mentally and chastised his wandering mind. "_Not right now…later._" he told himself with anticipation. He wickedly played into the DEA agent's game, "I don't know, Todd, that looks like a luxury penthouse and you seem like more of a condo guy."

Todd couldn't take his eyes off her and responded, "Well, I've been around the block a few times and have a few tricks. I'm thinking I could talk her down in price a bit. Maybe just convince her to give me a taste?"

Marshall rolled his eyes at the foolish man next to him and nudged him, "Well…look at that. Here she comes. Must've felt you ogling her all the way over here. Ready to do some negotiating?" Todd actually looked excited and Marshall almost felt sorry for him.

Mary strode directly for them in her usual, purposeful way and Todd was transfixed. As she reached them, he opened his mouth to speak but Mary was faster.

"Jesus, Marshall, when did they lower the age limit for law enforcement? I don't think half these idiots are of drinking age." She turned her gaze on the DEA agent and smiled alarmingly, "Hell, you're probably still a virgin!" She patted Todd's cheek and he turned bright red. Marshall snorted in amusement.

To his credit, Agent LaBlaine was able to hold out his hand and barely stutter as he introduced himself to this blonde goddess. She replied, "Marshal Mary Shannon…and I see you've already met my grinning moron of a partner." Marshall wiggled his eyebrows at Todd and grinned harder. The younger man knew when he was beaten, smiled wryly and took his leave.

Mary helped herself to Marshall's yet untouched plate as she said, "Well, you two were talkative. What did he want?"

"You." Marshall smiled at her and snagged his muffin before it disappeared too.

She choked a bit on her donut and looked at him incredulously, "Seriously?" He nodded and she looked over at the DEA agent now talking to his cohorts. She pretended to look him up and down appraisingly and said slowly, "Hmmm… well, he may have some potential…"

Marshall barked a laugh and smacked her on the arm saying, "Cut it out…you'd maim the poor guy! And anyway, once you've had the Mann between your thighs you know you can't settle for anything less. You'd be back begging for it." he laid it on thick.

Her eyes widened in shock and then she laughed out loud at the complete absurdity of that statement coming out of his mouth. He was rarely outright crude and she was completely caught off guard. "Oh my god, I can't believe you said that out loud!" She was casting her eyes about hoping no one was within hearing distance, "You're insane, you know that?"

He was laughing too, but his eyes became serious as he looked at her and replied, "I must be…I'm hopelessly in love with you."

Mary tilted her head and returned his gaze, "Damn straight." she agreed.

The rain let up a half hour later and the airport informed them that the supplier's plane was off the ground and headed their way. The joking turned more pointed and the conversations stiffer as everyone turned their thoughts to tactical plans and survival. They were acting on information from a long term informant and the bust was dangerous but worth it. Three higher up cartel players would be the prize today along with their supplies of drugs and arms coming in from Miami.

Marshall and Mary checked and double checked each other's gear with their usual efficiency. The teams gathered around their leaders to review the game plan one last time and then they were loading the vans to take them to the drop off site just outside the perimeter of a small craft airport. Marshall counted alligators and Mary threatened to feed him to them if he didn't shut up. Their team unloaded and they began the slow creep towards the hanger that was designated for the drop. The team leader had just confirmed the latest information from the inside man and the operation was a go. Marshall looked at her and said, "Promise to stay safe." She squeezed his hand and replied, "If you promise to come home." Satisfied, they turned their full attention to the task at hand.

It went sideways before the teams were even in place. Three buildings outside the perimeter of the hanger exploded as a helicopter came barreling in from just over the treeline and fired antitank missiles. The task force personnel were forced to split up and take cover while defending the poor positions they held. Mary and Marshall lost sight of each other in the first ten minutes. Because of the transmitters everyone wore, chatter was plentiful and the partners could hear the other's voice intermittently as orders were given and received.

Mary, a DEA agent and two other Marshals were cut off from the main group and fled to the back entrance of the hanger. They came under heavy fire from the control tower and were forced to kick an entryway into a storage area attached to the main building. While squeezing through the small and sharp opening to safety, Mary's transmitter was severed and she lost her feed. Their small group also lost a Marshal outside the shed as he was picked off by the shooters in the control tower. She could only follow the lead of the other two people with her and had no idea where Marshall was or if he was alive. She forced herself to focus on her own survival.

Marshall's group had consisted of six men until a gunner in the helicopter took one down. The remaining five dove for shelter amongst the aircraft and vehicles on the tarmac adjacent to the hanger and waited to get a clear shot of the man in the bird. Marshall hadn't heard Mary's voice for a few minutes and called on her to check in. Nothing. He tried again a few minutes later with the same result. The chaos on the line was expected, but she had never not answered him before. As the task force's own SAMs finally removed the air threat, he grimly focused on finishing the operation and did not think about the scenarios that would lead to her radio silence.

Thirty five minutes of guerilla warfare passed with the ultimate victory going to the task force. They lost four men and one of the cartel members that had hoped to capture. Mary's small team was key to the success of the operation as they were able to sneak into the hanger and remove some key small arms threats before they were used against the rest of the team. She was trying to finish securing the weapons on the last prisoner inside so she could go track down Marshall. She was nearly frantic with worry at this point. Suddenly, she was grabbed from behind in a rough but loose chokehold and almost threw her opponent before she recognized the body against her as her partner's. Relief flooded through her and she closed her eyes and relaxed into him. He had been madly searching for her and hadn't even checked in his assault rifle before hunting her down and still held it in his other hand. He was shaking and pressed his head against hers while growling in her ear, "I couldn't **hear** you!"

She held his arm around her neck with her hands and replied, "I know. My transmitter was scraped off when we crawled into the shed."

He held her for a few moments more, squeezed tightly then let her go. "I'm going to go check the weapon in and I'll see you in the van." he told her as he walked away. He was trying to regroup and needed to distance himself from her for a time once he had found her alive. She understood.

They rode back comfortably, but quietly. Everyone's emotions were raw and there was a pall of sadness over the deaths of four colleagues. All knew it could easily have been them. The partners debriefed back at the command center, showered and climbed into their truck to drive back to their hotel. Chit chat was minimal and the tension was palpable. As they shut the door behind them, Marshall pulled her into his arms and backed her into the wall roughly. His mouth was on hers, his hands gripped her hair and he kissed with passion and need. Mary was surprised, but her desire flared quickly and hotly to meet his and she tucked her hands into his back pockets and pulled his hips into hers. She felt his need and he ground his hips firmly against hers for the first time and she gasped. There was something raw and powerful about the force and the intensity of their kiss increased.

Marshall reached down to grab the hem of her t-shirt and pulled it over her head quickly then just as swiftly relieved her of her bra. He regripped her hair with one hand while the other caressed and rubbed and gently pinched her breasts and nipples. He was savoring her neck and jawline with kisses and his tongue swirled and suckled at her lips and ears. She was moaning and working the fastening of his belt and jeans to try to get to more of him. He whispered roughly into her ear as he had earlier, "I couldn't hear you." She understood and whispered back, "Then feel me."

They were all frenetic energy and lust as they devoured each other and shed clothing articles like shells until they were both naked and sweating. Mary pushed Marshall down onto the bed and licked a slow trail from his knee up to his groin. He groaned and thrust as she used her lips and tongue to explore him and watched him writhe beneath her. Suddenly he tangled both hands in her hair and gripped her head firmly so he could pull her up his body. She protested slightly, but he covered her mouth with his and used his tongue to silence her and drive her mad once more. She began to settle onto him but he shifted his hips to thwart her and broke the kiss.

"No." he said roughly. He saw the confusion in her eyes and smiled slowly as he ground out, "Tonight I drive…and we're going to go fast." Her eyes widened slightly and he used his hips and momentum to flip her under him, spread her thighs with his knees and in one move entered her deeply and swiftly. She cried out his name with utter delight at the sensation and wrapped her legs around his hips as she bucked to meet him. His thrusts filled her completely and he had a way of tilting his hips that caused electrical currents of pleasure to course through her limbs. She was gasping and begging and planted one foot wide on the bed as the other leg climbed higher on his body to wrap around his ribs, her nails digging slightly into his buttocks as she pulled him deeper into her. The ball of flame in her belly had grown to a raging inferno and she was burning alive. With a last, sobbing plea, her world exploded in a wave of rapture and she rode it into oblivion.

Marshall had heard her cry out his name and saw her writhing beneath him as he entered her and as his hips tilted to settle him into her more fully the air around him seemed to shimmer and his vision blurred. She dug her nails into him and met him thrust for thrust and the last shred of his control vanished as his world became a white noise. Her pleas and moans drove him to move faster and harder and as her leg wrapped around his back it caused her hips to twist and he pushed into her fully. She came apart shuddering and sobbing and he leaned back, grabbed her hips with his hands and pulled her roughly into him as he thrust three more times and shattered. He collapsed upon her and faded into darkness as he whispered, "I can hear you."

She slowly came to awareness as he lay spent on her chest. The weight of him satisfying and pleasurable. She had never been taken by a man like that before and it had been glorious. Every molecule of her body was floating in its own languid pool of deliciousness. The intensity and ferocity of the act was primal and she felt…claimed in some way. "_I belong to Marshall_" she played with the thought in her mind and found she liked it. Not that she'd ever tell him that. Smiling, she allowed herself to drift back into semi-consciousness for a while. She shifted her hips slightly a short time later as his weight started to become uncomfortable and he slid off to one side with a sigh.

He woke as she shifted him off of her and reveled in the pure limpness of his limbs and sated weight of his body. He had never taken a woman like that before. Because of his size and strength, he had always been careful to maintain control and paced himself. Not with this woman. She had driven him over the brink as she matched him in strength and tempo and it had been divine. He slowly crawled his fingers up her side and rested his hand on her belly. "Are you all right?" he whispered into her neck, "I was rough."

Her hand covered his and she purred, "Mmmm, baby…Mario Andretti needs to take the car around the track more often." He smiled in pleasure. "You liked that, eh?" he offered. She chuckled softly and murmured, "Zoom, zoom."

They fell asleep for a while, then woke each other later for a slow, scenic drive where they explored peaks and valleys filled with sighs and promises and filled their senses with tastes and textures that coaxed moans and whispers. They delighted in each other.

He lay on his back in the dark room, Mary's head resting on his chest and her finger idly tracing tiny circles in his chest hair. He listened to her breathing and allowed himself to feel the sensation of her breath on his skin, the silkiness of her hair across his shoulder and the weight of her leg resting on his thigh. This woman undid him…tore down every defense he ever had and he would give her any part of him that she asked for. He could hide nothing of himself from her, nor would he want to, and she had wrapped herself around his very core and become a part of him. He would fight beside her…fight for her…die for her.

"You know what I think?" he murmured as he gently wound a strand of her hair round and round his finger. His other hand joined hers on his chest and he laced their fingers together.

"Mmmm?" she replied in a purr, tracing his thumb with her own.

"That I will love you forever." he softly declared. Her thumb stilled and he felt her breath catch. He waited, continuing to gently play with her hair.

Marshall's words caressed her and for the first time in her life, Mary felt…whole. The wound in her soul that ached with the ever present yearning to belong to someone, that compelled the haunted search for some elusive salve of comfort, was closed. This man had repaired her faith and her trust and kissed the scars of broken hopes and dreams until they were but memories. He was a part of her now and she couldn't remember knowing what it was like to be without him. She would give him anything as he was her everything.

Mary shifted her head so it was resting on his shoulder and placed a gentle kiss on his neck. She whispered into his ear, "And I will let you."

Her breath tickled his ear and he smiled and sighed in contentment.

--el fin--

***** Thank you all for taking the journey with me! Please let me know what you think with my favorite treat...REVIEWS! I have another story written and will post soon *****


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